


To Tame a Firefly

by daoinhe



Series: Leuchtkäfer [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: 10th Class, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Extremely Dubious Consent, Female Pyro, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Misogyny, Murder, Other, Period-Typical Sexism, Poisoning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Torture, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 44,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21646807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daoinhe/pseuds/daoinhe
Summary: The team is in a shambles, Medic is using Heavy as his own personal rule enforcement, beating into shape those who don't comply with Medic's ideas.  The new Pyro has gone feral, and Engie, being the soft hearted fool he is, contemplates how to help it without getting on Medic's bad side.
Relationships: Engineer/Pyro (Team Fortress 2)
Series: Leuchtkäfer [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677595
Comments: 97
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a huge thank you to Distasty for reading my trash, and a huge thank you to everyone who leaves kudos and comments. Seriously, without those,I would think no one likes my ideas. Which may still be true, but...

Engie sighed and lay his book down on his (mostly) flat stomach. The sound of fists meeting flesh was interfering with his reading. Rubbing a hand over his cropped brown hair he groaned. It was a shame, he thought to himself, he didn’t know when he would have another opportunity to just lay back in the sun and read again. Relaxation was hard to come by at this job. It felt like something was always breaking. He glanced up, shading his eyes from the sun and shook his head. Heavy punched Pyro again, drawing a weak grunt from the thing. He’d been pounding his fists into the poor critter for the past half hour at least. 

Engie didn’t know if he should step in or not. If he did, he would probably just end up getting beaten like Pyro, but he really did want to read some more in peace. He grunted as Heavy stepped back from the shuddering figure on the ground and gestured for Medic to heal it enough to let him continue beating it without killing it. The red glow of the Medigun shone briefly, Medic had healing Pyro just to the point of survival down to a science by this time. As he turned off the gun and stepped back, flipping a curl of dark hair out of his eye with a head toss, Heavy stepped in again, landing a kick to the Pyro’s ribs that literally lifted it off the ground and flung it several feet. The Pyro landed in the dust with a hoarse scream, voice strained to breaking. 

Engie reached for a beer just as Scout stuck his head out the base’s side door. “Hey guys!” His accent was harsh and abrasive. “Dinner’s done. Solly said to get in here and eat.” He pulled his head back in the door and closed it behind him. Heavy turned to Medic and grinned, wide teeth glistening white in the sunlight. He delivered one last well placed kick to the Pyro and turned away, heading for the dinner table. Medic sighed and followed, leaving the Pyro curled up in the dirt. 

Engie sat still for a moment, watching it, then took a sip of his beer. The thing was trying to crawl. It was kind of pathetic, he thought, watching the critter scrabble in the dust, dragging itself by one arm and pushing with its feet. He wondered idly where it was trying to go. Leaning back, he observed it carefully. It was crawling at an angle to the base, not heading for the door. Engie stood up and walked over to it, squatting on his heels. “Where you going, pardner?” He didn’t try to touch it, just watched. The Pyro ignored him and kept crawling. He studied its trajectory; it was heading for a shaded alcove in the base’s wall. He was pretty sure that was where it was heading anyway. He thought for a moment, did he want to interfere? At last he sat his beer down and scooped the struggling Pyro up in his arms. It flailed weakly for a moment, trying to escape, then fell still. Engie carried it over to the corner and propped it against the wall. He retrieved his beer and went inside.

The rest of the guys were gathered around the table already, plates piled high with burgers and corn on the cob. Solly didn’t display a lot of culinary variety, but the few things he could cook, he cooked well. Engie filled his plate and sat down on an empty chair. He was greeted with smiles and laughter, the others joking about the days battle. They’d lost again of course, but they all seemed to be taking the losses in stride at this point. Even Heavy, knuckles still red, seemed relaxed. Engie sighed. It was good to see the team so happy, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the Pyro, outside in the gathering dusk, hurting and alone. 

They’d traded out Pyro’s with another Colorado team a bit over a month ago. Their Pyro had wanted to fight with a different group for a while, take a break was how he’d put it, and the Office had arranged the trade. This new pyro was, well, new. Not that it wasn’t competent, Engie thought charitably, it had come highly recommended. But, when it got to their team, something seemed to happen. Engie shook his head and took a bite of his burger. Maybe it just needed time to adjust to their fighting style, he thought to himself. Heavy didn’t seem inclined to give it that time though. The real problem, he decided, had come when it found out that Medic’s word was law around here. Sure, there had been some hazing and joking around with the new guy, but then it had to go and piss Medic off. The team had been planning strategy one night and the thing had stood up in the middle of the session, made a derogatory gesture and left. And considering that Medic was the one who planned strategy, Medic was the one pissed. After that, things had gone to hell. Engie was fairly sure he knew who had convinced Heavy that the Pyro was the reason they were losing. Didn’t matter that they’d been losing before the thing had ever come here. According to the big man, it was the Pyro’s fault. 

Things had started out slow at first, snide comments, cruel pranks, that sort of thing. Then, when the Pyro had tried to defend itself, things had gotten real ugly. Now they were to the point where, every evening, win or lose, Heavy cornered the Pyro and beat it to a pulp. It was doing wonders for Heavy’s mood; he was getting out all of his frustrations. The Pyro, however, was skulking around the base like a dog that had been kicked one time to many. 

Engie lay his burger down on the plate, appetite deadening. In the past two weeks, he could count on one hand the number of meals the Pyro had made it to. Not to mention, even with respawn and Medigun technology, that much trauma had to be harmful to a person. He pushed his plate aside, trying to squash down the rising feelings of guilt. It wasn’t his responsibility, he told himself. Not his soul to save. 

He squinted down at limp lettuce and poked it idly with one finger. The stuff just lay there. He could stand up and say something to Heavy, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. The big Russian was the stubbornest man that Engie had ever met. Once his mind was made up about something, he expected to world to conform to his idea, no matter how many times it was proven wrong. And Medic, that man was a sadist. No two ways about it, he enjoyed hurting things. He enjoyed it even more when he could get someone else to hurt things while he watched.

He glanced around the table wondering if he was the only person with doubts. Demo was too drunk to care, probably didn’t even know what was going on. Sniper was aloof from the troubles of the rest of the team. If it didn’t affect his aim or his coffee supply, the man didn’t care what happened. Solly didn’t do well with change. He was still trying to accept the fact that WWII was over, and that had been years ago. He would not sympathize with the Pyro and would in fact probably join in on the hazing, convinced that he was making it a better soldier. Scout was young and immature. He had been the person to start with the name calling and Engie had seen him beating on the Pyro before. He thought that Heavy would respect him if he was cruel, and he was constantly looking for a father figure. And as far as Spy went, that man was just plain unfeeling. No help there. 

The talk at the table had turned to strategy. Engie picked up his plate and excused himself. He knew his job, no strategy there. Set up a sentry and keep an eye on the intel. He glanced over his shoulder and made his excuses to the others, explaining that he was going to his workshop to eat and draft plans. Solly nodded, approving industry in anyone. When the big double doors to the dining room closed, he hooked a hard left and went outside. 

The Pyro was still sitting propped against the wall. As Engie approached, plate in hand, the blank lenses of its mask turned to watch the approaching man. He stayed just out of reach as he squatted down again. The lenses did not waver from his face. Engie tried to read the things body language. It didn’t appear particularly dangerous at the moment. 

“I brought you some dinner.” He tilted his head to the side, listening carefully. The Pyro’s breath wheezed in and out of its chest accompanied by a high-pitched keening. Engie winced in sympathy, knowing all too well the feel of broken ribs. He inched closer, duckwalking on his heels to within reach of the still figure in front of him. “I know you don’t feel like eating, but you really need to.” 

The Pyro’s head tilted to the side, curiously birdlike as it watched him. Engie inched closer and set the plate down, then, feeling emboldened by the lack of reaction, reached out a comforting hand to lay on Pyro’s shoulder. The reaction was immediate and violently aggressive. Pyro’s good arm swung up, grasping Engie’s throat and squeezing tightly. Engie gasped and tried to pull back but the creature followed him, grip firmly locked in place. Engie struggled for breath, trying to control the panic that came with not being able to breath. He fell over, landing on his back in the dirt, the Pyro half on top of him. Engie tried to push the hand away, but its grip was strong. He pushed harder and the Pyro went tumbling backwards into the wall. 

Engie scrabbled to his hands and knees, one hand massaging his aching throat, the other spread on the ground for balance. The Pyro growled low in its throat then suddenly pushed up against the wall and staggered away from Engie. He remained kneeling on the grass, watching it go. 

Finally, with a heartfelt sigh, he stood and brushed himself off. He was unsure if he was more angry or offended. Turning from the plate still sitting in the dirt, he walked off to his shop and, slipping inside, locked the door behind him. 

Once safely behind closed doors, Engie went to the small bathroom in his shop and peered in the discarded truck mirror he’d mounted on the wall. He stood in front of it for a long moment, peering at the dark discolorations on his throat. He changed angles, moving from side to side and looking closely then stepping back. 

“Well.” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat, ignoring the pain there. “I guess you won’t be singing any love songs anytime soon, handsome.” He chuckled at his own absurdity then looked away. “Guess I can’t blame the little devil though. If I’d been beat like that, I wouldn’t trust anybody on this team either.” Engie shook his head and adjusted his goggles around his neck. “Could be worse, I guess. At least I didn’t end up in respawn.” He turned away from the mirror and went to his workbench, pulling up a stool and grabbing a pencil. 

As he drew, his mind wandered. He remembered when he was young, and a stray dog had started hanging around the ranch he grew up on. He’d gone out and tried to pet it and the dog had turned on him, vicious growls and teeth baring snarls greeting him. Hurt by the animal’s aggression, he’d gone in the house. His father had seen the look on his face and asked him what was wrong. Engie had explained the issue and his father had shaken his head. “You gotta get the animal to trust you. You can’t just walk up to it and expect it to happen right away. Takes time, son. Time and patience.”

Engie had started feeding the dog after that. He would take a bowl of kibble to it every day. At first, the dog had run when it had seen him coming but Engie would sit the bowl down, then walk away. Soon, the dog was slinking closer and closer to him. It took months of hard work and slow deliberation but eventually, he could touch it. He still remembered the satisfaction he’d felt the first time the dog had let him run fingers through its wiry fur and then scratch behind an ear. Not long after that, the dog moved into his room and was a constant companion until it finally passed away, years later. 

Engie wondered if he could win the Pyro over the same way. He looked over the list of things he’d written on the paper, a bullet point outline for taming a Pyro. With a grin, Engie folded the paper and stuck it in the pocket of his overall. Satisfied with his plan, he turned to the blueprints for a new sentry gun, pleased with what he had written.


	2. Chapter 2

Engie was heading for the rec room when he heard voices lowered in intense conversation. He paused, wondering if he should continue walking or just turn back to his shop. The voices were easy to identify, Heavy and Medic, and from where he stood, he could hear exactly what they were saying. 

“You must trust me, Heavy.” Medic’s soothing tone did not bode well. That was the voice he used when he wanted to experiment on someone. “The Pyro is a scourge. An albatross around all our necks. I do not understand why it is doing this to us, but it seems to intentionally be fouling our plans.”

“But Doctor, how do we stop this from happening?” Heavy’s rumble seemed to vibrate the ground. “I have tried to discipline the thing, it does not seem to care.” 

“Keep at it, mein Freund. It will eventually understand that it cannot bait us into giving in to the BLU team. We will win this war. Even with that abomination on our team, we will be triumphant.” 

Engie backed away slowly, taking care to keep his boot heels from scuffing on the concrete. His suspicions had been correct. Medic was behind this. The man was probably delighting in the chance to abuse a teammate. Engie sighed deeply, mind turning over the problem. Even if he did manage to befriend the Pyro, Medic would just poison the team against him too. Nobody wanted to be branded a traitor. And at this rate, that was exactly where he was heading. He paused in front of his lounge chair, contemplating the problem. Do what was right by the Pyro, or just let it happen? He knew what he should do, but at the same time, what if they were right? What if the thing was a traitor? He muttered under his breath, undecided. He cursed; his mother always claimed he had a thing for strays. And that’s exactly what this Pyro reminded him of, a stray animal slinking around. The problem was, the thing seemed to fight well enough for the last team. What had changed? He frowned, eyebrows furrowing in thought. He needed to talk to someone about this. He tried to remember who was taking care of engineering for the Pyro’s last base. And then his lips curved up in a thin smile. His cousin, Austin was stationed there. The other base was only a five-hour drive away, and the weekend was coming up. He could meet up with Austin before the others realized he was missing. Maybe find out what was going on. Nodding in satisfaction, Engie leaned back in his chair and watched the activity of the base around him. 

He’d been sitting there for perhaps a half hour when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head slightly, watching between slitted lids as the Pyro struggled out of the low brush surrounding the back of the base and headed for the back entrance. Just before it reached the entrance, it looked around furtively and ducked behind a bush. Engie continued to watch, intrigued. When the thing didn’t come out from behind the bush, he got up and walked over to it. Peering carefully at the bush, he didn’t see any telltale flashes of red within its depths. He circled the bush and stopped suddenly, grinning. 

There was a vent hidden behind the bush. Closer inspection revealed that the screws had been removed from the cover and were missing. He bent over, inspecting it closer. There was a little trail of scuffed earth on the ground below the vent, and bending over, he could see through the grating that the vent led back about four feet before turning at a sharp right angle. He let a satisfied noise escape from between his teeth and went back to his chair. Closing his eyes, he pictured the blueprints for the base, trying to remember where that ductwork came out. If he wasn’t mistaken, it should lead to an unused storage room at the back of the base and one level down. Engie chuckled softly at the critter’s cleverness. Here he was worried about it, and it was infiltrating their own base and finding a hiding spot that even the spies didn’t pay any attention to. He stood up and went inside to see what was for dinner. 

It was Scout’s night to cook. The aroma of cheese and tomato sauce drifted through the hallways, along with the odors of garlic and toasting bread. Engie’s stomach rumbled. Spaghetti was Scout’s specialty. Not much work but enough to feed everyone. The hard part was toasting the bread, according to the younger man. He walked into the kitchen and looked around. Everyone was gathered around the table, watching as Scout set a steaming pot on the hard surface. A large set of tongs stuck out the top and there were platters of garlic bread spaced down the table, ensuring that everyone had access. Scout stood back and watched with obvious pride as plates were filled to overrunning. 

“Is it your Ma’s recipe?” Engie leaned on the counter by Scout and watched as the team dived in. 

“Yeah, yeah. How’d ya know?” the boy looked at Engie guilelessly. “A’course, she could cook it better, but it’s still pretty damned good.”

Engie nodded his agreement. “Say, you don’t think I could get an extra bowl, do you? It’d be just the thing to take back to the workshop with me. I’m still working on blueprints.” He smiled apologetically. “You know how it is, Scout. A man gets hungry with all that work.” 

Scout nodded. “I’ll set a bowl aside for you. You want a couple a pieces of bread to go with it, right?” 

Engie nodded, then grabbed a plate and began to fill it. Sitting down at the table, he dug in. “Two would be fine, Scout.” 

He finished eating quickly, not paying much attention to the conversation buzzing around him. The flavors of tomato and garlic mingling on his tongue proved a great distraction to his problems. At last, nearly finished, he looked up when repeated calling of his name got his attention. 

“Engineer.” Medic repeated the word for the third time, mouth drawn down in lines of frustration. “Have you heard anything we’ve been saying.” 

Engie sighed and looked down at his plate, then back up again. “Sorry, Doc. I guess I was distracted.”

Medic released a put-upon breath of frustration. “I was saying, the Pyro is missing. When dinner is finished, we will be searching the base for the miserable creature.” His features twisted. “It seems that Heavy is missing his sparring partner.” He glanced at the giant man sitting beside him. “So, of course, it must be found and reminded of it’s proper place here.” 

Engie carefully schooled his face to keep the anger off his features. “Doc, I have work to do,” He began. At the look on Medics face, the promise of pain in the future, he sighed. “But I reckon it ain’t that important. I’ll help you look.” He glanced down at his nearly empty plate. “I guess I was about done here, anyway.” 

Medic’s face broke out in a beatific smile. “Thank you, Engineer.”

Engie’s mind was working overtime. “I reckon I know the lower levels of the base better than just about anybody. I could look there, if you want.”

Heavy nodded. “That would be good. If you find it, call out and I will come to collect it.” He wiped his plate with a final piece of garlic bread. “Little Pyro cannot hide from us all. No matter how hard it tries.”

Engie scraped the remains of his dinner into the trash and glanced at Scout. “You mind putting that extra bowl in the refrigerator for me? I’ll be back for it when I can.” 

Scout nodded and grinned. “Sure thing, buddy.” 

Engie turned and left the room, his footsteps heavy as he headed for the stairs leading to the basement. He stopped at the bottom, orienting himself. Mind made up, he headed for the back of the base, the empty storeroom his destination. It didn’t take long to get there, and he paused for a moment, hand on the doorknob before turning it and stepping inside. 

The room looked like any other unused storeroom. Empty crates sat around, and a few old tarps from painting projects. He stepped into the room and looked at it more carefully. Odd how the crates all seemed to be congregated in the far corner, right where that vent should come out. He cleared his throat softly. 

“Look.” He began. “I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you will believe me anyway, but I don’t intend you any harm.” He paused. There was a soft rustle in the corner, the sound mice would make. “Everybody is looking for you. I don’t intend to tell them about this room, or anything else, for that matter. What’s happening here is just plain wrong.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I don’t know if I can fix it, but I don’t intend to add to the problem.”

He turned back to the door. “I’m gonna leave a bowl of spaghetti outside the vent later. It’s pretty good. You might want to eat it.” 

Engie walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. He spent some time down there, going from room to room and just looking around, poking into odd corners and such. Then, when he thought that sufficient time had passed, he went back up the stairs and met the others in the kitchen. As he stepped inside, all eyes turned to him and the conversation died. 

“Any luck?” He kept his voice even. 

“No one can find the little monster.” Medic sounded indignant, as though the lack of a Pyro was a personal affront. “I don’t know where it could be hiding.” 

Engie shrugged. “Maybe it’s in the woods, Doc. Hell, it could be anywhere, but it definitely ain’t downstairs.” He wished he could cross his fingers for luck as the lie fell off his lips. He watched the Medic carefully. “Did anybody see it come back from the battlefield?” 

Heads were shaken all around, along with murmurs to the negative. “Do you think it could still be out there somewhere? Plenty of hidey holes on the field.” 

Medic frowned; his eyes cast down as he thought hard. “That could be, Engineer. Well, if it is out there, it will just have to stay out there tonight.” He grinned. “Scout, could you please lock the doors?” 

Engie frowned. “I need to go to my shop. I have work to do tonight.” 

Medic sighed. “If you insist on working, then fine. But once you go out, there will be no coming back in.”

Engie did his best to look put out. “Fine. Let me get my stuff out of the fridge and I’ll go.” He grabbed the bowl and the bread, then turned to the others. “Just for the record, this is crazy. Locking me out to spite that critter.” He curled one hand into a fist, feigning anger. “I might use it for a sparring partner myself, next time I see it.” 

When the door shut behind him, Engie sighed in relief, shoulders slumping. He carried the bowl to his shop, sitting it down on the counter and busying himself for about an hour. When the time had passed and he was certain that no one was watching him from the base, he carried the bowl and the bread back out to the vent and sat them on the ground. Turning back to his shop, he could have sworn he heard movement in the vent. He squared his shoulders and kept walking.

Later that evening, he grabbed his guitar from its case and went outside. Lowering himself onto the old apple crate beside the door of his shop, he cradled the guitar and began to gently strum the strings, humming to himself. He had been sitting there for about twenty minutes he guessed, idly strumming bits of tunes and snatches of things he’d written himself when he first heard movement behind him. He glanced to the side and saw a shadow against the shop’s wall. His breath hitched a bit in his chest, but he didn’t stop strumming. Glancing over again a few minutes later, the shadow was closer, standing just at the corner of his shop. He began to hum again, a child’s lullaby he remembered fondly. Crooning the words over the guitar’s ringing strings, he risked another glance. The Pyro was closer now, standing about ten feet away, head cocked to the side, fingers twitching rhythmically as it swayed from side to side. Engie grinned, keeping his fingers busy on the strings. 

“When I was a kid,” he began, “My momma used to sing me that song while I would sit on her lap and play with my toys. I remember her humming that in my ear when I’d get sick at night. It always made me feel better. Must have been some kind of magic, I guess.” He glanced up again. The Pyro was standing still, watching him carefully. “She was a wise woman, my momma. She always made me feel safe.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug, his fingers still plucking the strings. “I reckon she would have taken you in and fed you apple pie and iced tea, then given you a warm bed with a down quilt on it. I don’t have any of those luxuries. But I do have a vent in the back of my shop, hidden behind some pallets.” The Pyro had stopped rocking back and forth now, body poised for flight. “I’m the only person with a key to this building. Thought maybe you’d want to remember that.” He looked up again and the Pyro was gone. Engie sighed and strummed the guitar a bit longer, melancholy tunes now, before going inside for the night


	3. Chapter 3

It was about ten pm when he placed the call to the Pyro’s old base. The phone rang five times before a heavily accented voice answered. “Hello. May I help you?” Engie sighed. It was too much to hope that Austin would answer the phone. “Hey there, I was wondering if I might speak to your Engineer?” 

“Of course, hold one moment please.” The sound of the phone being laid down was followed by a voice calling loudly for “Engineer, bitte! Telephone!” He smiled in amusement at the sounds of normalcy coming through the receiver. At last, the phone was picked up and a soft familiar drawl greeted his ears. “Engie here, what can I do for you?”

“Hey Austin. It’s Mac.”

“McCormick Connagher. You old devil, what the hell you up to?” The warmth in the voice was unmistakable. 

“Listen, I was wondering if you might consider meeting me somewhere this weekend, maybe chat a while? I’ve got a problem here I’m having trouble with.”

“Well, sure. I’d love to. You got anywhere particular in mind? Want me to drive over there?”

Engie stammered slightly in his eagerness to keep the other man away. “No, no, don’t do that. I’ll meet you halfway? There’s a little town called Silverton. I hear they got a real nice bar, and a motel if you want to spend the night.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Silverton. Got it. The drive there should take what, about two and a half hours? Til we finish fighting and get cleaned up, then drive over there, I reckon it’ll be close to this time. I’ll go ahead and reserve a room for the night; you can bunk with me. Sound good?”

Engie sighed in relief. “That would be perfect. I’ll see ya then.” He set the phone’s receiver back down in the cradle and returned to his shop. One more day, then there would hopefully be answers. 

The next day’s battle passed slowly. As he sat on the intel, he made a mental checklist of all the things he would need to pack, and when that got dull, he went over the things he wanted to know. Several times during the day, he heard the jetting whoosh of a flamethrower, but he never did see the Pyro. He found plenty of evidence that it had been around, in the shape of charred body parts laying about, but no Pyro. He didn’t take the time to wonder where it was hiding, he’d decided that with all the little nooks and crannies down here, there was no shortage of holes for it to crawl into. 

He nearly groaned in relief when the battle ended and he could pack up his gear. He hadn’t seen a single enemy all day, and just because they hadn’t grabbed the BLU’s intel, didn’t mean RED had lost. More of a stalemate, in his opinion, but better than a loss. He whistled as he walked back to his shop, looking forward to that evenings trip. He couldn’t really remember the last time he’d left base so this would be a treat. He’d just set his toolbox down when a throat cleared behind him. Engie turned, hand falling onto the butt of the pistol holstered at his hip. 

He relaxed when he saw Medic standing in the doorway, Scout beside him. “Help you boys?” He kept his voice light, belying the tension he felt at the sight of Scout’s bat in his hand, the steady tap tap of the ash against his leg. 

“We were simply wondering if you had seen the Pyro today?” Medic’s voice was cold, tightening as the word Pyro fell from his lips like venom. He glanced around the shop, ice blue eyes taking in the machines and tools all sitting in neat and orderly rows. 

“Nope.” Engie shrugged. “I think it was around, I found a couple of burnt up bodies, but I ain’t seen hide nor hair of the critter for two days. Why? Is it still missing?”

Medic took a step further into the shop. “It is. Someone on this base is helping it. I do not know who, but I do know that when I find out, I shall make them regret going against my wishes in this.” He glanced over at Scout, a cold smile touching his lips. “Whoever they are, they shall be, as the junge says, bonked.” 

Engie shrugged again. “I don’t know if you’re trying to accuse me of something or what, Doc, but you’re more than welcome to come in and look around for it. I just have to ask that you don’t touch my blueprints.” He stepped back a pace, hand swinging around in a sweeping gesture. “As you can see, there’s not much space in here to hide without the risk of tetanus.” 

Medic swept past him and into the shop. He glanced around quickly, then stepped behind the small plywood partition Engie had erected around his makeshift bathroom. Stepping back out, he surveyed the small loft and the mattress placed on the rough floor. “I assume you would tell me if you saw the thing?” 

Engie nodded. “You know it, Doc. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m leaving for the weekend.” 

Medic turned to look at him, eyebrows arching in surprise. “Really? And where are you going, pray tell?”

Engie couldn’t see any way around this conversation. “I’m gonna meet my cousin at a bar about two hours from here.” A warm smile crept across his face. “Ain’t seen him in years, and when I found out he was within driving distance, we made plans. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a good barfight.”

Medic dipped his head. “I see. Well, I won’t hold you here any longer.” He glanced at the small knapsack in Engie’s hand. “I assume you will lock the doors to your shop while you are gone?” 

Engie nodded. “That’s right. I’ve got the place spy proofed, and I wouldn’t want anybody to get hurt accidentally by just walking in.” He glanced around. “At least, not anybody on this team.” He tried for a friendly smile. “Walk me to my truck?” 

Medic nodded and accompanied the shorter man to the beat-up Ford sitting in front of the shop. While he unlocked the truck’s door, he noted that Medic was gazing at the tarp in the back. Engie leaned over and lifted one corner, letting Medic see the scrap metal piled in the trucks bed. “Gift for my cousin. You can never have too much scrap.” He climbed in the truck and started it, slowly releasing the clutch and rolling down the hill. He breathed deeply through his nose as he watched the two recede into the distance behind him. 

The further he drove from base, the more the tension eased in his shoulders and neck. He turned the radio to a decent country station and sang along as he navigated his old truck through the verdant landscape around him. Mountains and trees, he thought to himself, nothing but mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. His mind drifted as he drove. He played over the encounter with Medic and Scout before he left, seeing it from several different angles. In almost every one, they suspected him of aiding that damned feral Pyro. He leaned back further against the beat-up leather seats and hummed along with the music, wondering if he’d done something to give himself away. He finally decided that they were fishing for information. After all, if Medic truly suspected he’d been the one helping the Pyro, he would have brought Heavy along, instead of Scout. 

Engie tried to remember back to the beginning, to what the team had been like before this Medic. He longed for those days, when a man could sit down, drink a beer with someone, and not have that comradeship used against him later. Medic had a way about him, a way of twisting people and things and turning them sour. Engie had never seen him quite so determined to bring someone under his thumb as this though. The things he’d been having others do to the Pyro bordered on breach of contract, in Engie’s opinion. He had to assume that the Administrator knew what was happening, with all the cameras around the base. It seemed apparent that she wouldn’t interfere unless performance was suffering. Engie snorted. He didn’t see how performance could suffer much more than it was already. 

Engie was still contemplating the present situation when he pulled into the parking lot of the only bar in Silverton, Co. A huge grin crossed his face when he saw the line of Harleys parked in the gravel lot beside the squat weather-beaten wooden building. He sat in the truck for a moment, watching. There was a front door and a large window beside it, veiled by a curtain and overlooking the parking lot. An alley ran behind the building and opened onto a vacant lot. On the other side of the lot, houses, run down looking and older, lined a narrow street. He slid out of the truck and locked the door, pocketing the keys. From the size of the building, he estimated a maximum occupancy of 30 to 40 people and given the number of bikes and pick up trucks in the parking lot, it looked like the place was hopping. 

Opening the door and stepping inside, a wave of loud music and cigarette smoke hit him in the face like a solid wall. He could feel the smile on his face growing by the minute. Tough looking working men in jeans and plaid shirts, women in tight pants or tighter skirts, and shirts that left nothing to the imagination mingled inside. Stepping further in, he noted the locations of the bar and the back door, in case an escape route was needed. A loud Texas drawl boomed over the noise. 

“Mac!” Engie looked to his left, the direction the yell came from and there was Austin, waving from a small round table. He held a cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other and was beckoning for Mac to join him. Mac pushed his way through the crowd and sat down. He frowned, noting the second bottle on the table. 

“Mine?” He asked, indicating the bottle. 

“Nah, that’s Martin’s.” Austin waved one hand vaguely. “He had to piss.” He waved a hand, flagging down a harried looking waitress. “This one’s on me, cousin. Tell the lady what you want.”

Mac paused in thought for a brief moment. He seriously doubted they would have Yellow Rose, his favorite, so in the interest of speed and blending in, he asked for a Miller. The waitress nodded and sashayed off into the crowd. 

Austin was eyeing him from across the table. “So, Mac, what was so important that you had to drag me out here to the middle of nowhere?” He knew that Mac wouldn’t have asked on a whim, for the Connagher line, work was everything. 

Mac leaned in closer. “I hate to say this, but I was sort of hoping to catch you alone.” 

Austin shrugged. “You should have said. Even then, I’m not sure it would have happened. When Martin found out I was coming to meet somebody from his old base, he insisted on riding with. Said it was important to him.” Austin shook his head in disbelief. “He sure is different from our Pyro, I’ll say that.”

“How so?” Mac leaned in closer, sensing that the information he craved was near. Mac was about to say something when a broad hand landed on Mac’s shoulder. Mac looked up into their old Pyro’s face. Broad cheekbones and inky hair framed soft brown eyes. He smiled warmly at Mac, sitting down at the small table and grabbing his beer. “Hey Engie, how goes it back at the ranch?” 

Mac grinned and slapped the other man on the back. “Martin!” His smile was genuine, lighting up his eyes. “It’s good to see you again. How do you like working with the new guys?” 

“Eh, it’s all good. Different, but good, you know?” He took a sip from his bottle and sat it down, finger idly tracing designs in the wet ring left on the table. He glanced up at Mac, then back down at the table. “How’s the replacement doing?” He looked up at Mac, eyes dark and knowing in the dim light of the bar. “Medic giving it trouble?”

Mac sighed and looked at Austin. “That’s actually why I came here. I had a few questions about the Pyro you traded us and figured I could get honest answers out of you, Austin.” He leaned back in his chair, watching his cousin closely. “Maybe we should get some beers to go and find a quieter place to talk?”

Austin nodded. “Yeah, I reckon if it’s business, this ain’t the best place to conduct it. Too many ears.” He grinned easily. “Good thing I rented us a room. Even better, the hotel is next door. Means if this is short, we can come back and look for some fun.” He stood, tossing a few bills on the table and heading for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been supporting this story. I'm hoping to update on Thursdays, and should be able to keep to a more or less regular schedule. Once again, thanks all!


	4. Chapter 4

Mac eyed his cousin’s choice of hotels with distaste. The place was a rattrap and a fire hazard all rolled into one. Austin shrugged. “Hey, it was cheap. And close to the bar. The next closest hotel is five miles away. I don’t know about you, but I fully intend to take advantage of this break.” 

He grinned and swept an arm around the dingy room with the threadbare carpet. “It’s got two beds, a shower that works, and it’s within staggering distance of our watering hole. You want miracles, this is not the town to look for them in.” 

Mac sighed deeply. “Why just the one room? Should I rent another?”

“Can’t, cousin. All the other rooms are taken. I did try.” He turned to look at Martin. “You were there, you heard me ask, right?”

Martin nodded. “I did hear him ask.” He shrugged. “I can take the floor. It’s not a problem, Mac.”

Mac shook his head, then grinned mischievously. “It’s all good. You can sleep with him.” He pointed at Austin. “Just be warned, he wets the bed.” 

Austin’s eyebrows shot upward. “That only happened once. And I was five.” He shook his head despairingly. “You won’t ever let me live that down, will you?” 

Mac started to laugh. “Nope, not happening.” He sat down on one of the beds. “Now, to business.” Reaching down, he grabbed one of the bottles that Martin had procured from the busy waitress and popped the top off. “This Pyro you sent us. You all said it could fight. So far, it’s not impressing anybody.” He took a long drink and licked the foam from his upper lip. “I was wondering, what’s up with it?” 

Austin frowned at him. “What do you mean, it can’t fight? That Pyro was a hell of a fighter for us.” His hand balled into a fist of its own accord. “Did you break my Pyro, Mac?”

Mac felt the blood rush to his cheeks at the accusation. Anger shot through him and his hands balled into fists at his sides. Mac grimaced. “You take that back, Austin. It ain’t my fault that your Pyro can’t fight.” 

Martin stood back and watched the two square off. He took a deep breath and stepped in between the men, hands out to either side of him. “Hold on guys. I think you’re both overreacting here.”

Both engineers turned to him simultaneously. “Over reacting?” Austin shouted. 

“Who asked you?” came from Mac’s side of the room. 

Martin sighed. “To be honest, nobody asked me, but brawling in a hotel room isn’t going to help.” He pulled out the single chair in the room and sat. “The way I see it is, you two can sit and listen to what I came here to say, or you can fight and get nowhere with this mess.” Brawny shoulders moved up and down in a shrug. “Up to you.”

Mac’s fists relaxed and he looked at Austin. “He has a point. I’d sort of like to hear his opinion.” Mac sat on the edge of a bed, watching as Austin did the same. The two looked at the Pyro, waiting patiently.

“Let’s start with why I left our team, Mac.” He dropped his hands into his lap, twisting his fingers together. “You know our Medic is crazy, right?” He glanced up; brown eyes filled with anguish. “I couldn’t stand it anymore. That man is a poison.” He glanced over at Austin. “He wants to lead the team, but he doesn’t understand how. So, he uses the Heavy to make people listen to him. If you don’t do what he wants, you find yourself getting jumped somewhere and used as a punching bag. If he sees that you are friendly with someone, and you don’t do what he wants, they end up getting jumped and beat up too. That way, nobody will stand up for anybody else because nobody wants to have to spend the rest of their time on the team being punished for a mistake made years before.”

He sighed. “I came to your team, Austin, and thought it was gonna be the same shit all over again. But you people have a good dynamic. You respect each other, listen to each other. It’s nice.” His voice was wistful. “I like being part of a team again. It gives me a reason to fight.”

He glanced at Mac. “According to what I’ve heard, their pyro wasn’t aggressive. Medic used me on the front lines, protecting him and Heavy. I didn’t really have a chance to try out other fighting styles. Just charge in and burn everything.” He shrugged. “Not that I regret fighting that way, but it was Medic’s doing, not mine. When I got here, their whole team thought I was suicidal. But it was just the way Medic wanted me to do things. He didn’t care if I went through respawn a dozen times in an hour as long as he got the results he wanted.” He reached for his bottle and took a long drink from it. “Turns out, you don’t have to fight that way. And this team doesn’t expect me to fight that way. And because of that, I can try out different strategies and we win more than we lose.” He looked at Mac, brown eyes perceptive. “Tell me, Mac, how is Medic treating your new Pyro?”

Mac sighed. “I think you can imagine how it’s going.” He looked from Martin to Austin, then back again. “You know how Medic is. The first week was kind of okay, he insisted that the Pyro stick with him and Heavy, and it kept sneaking off. So, Medic got this bright idea to say that it was really working for BLU. He convinced Heavy and Scout, and they started picking at the thing. Then, the critter tried to stand up for itself, and shit went downhill.” He sighed. “That’s why I’m here, to be truthful. I’ve never seen Medic this bad. He’s got Heavy using that poor Pyro as a training dummy. And now, the Pyro is hiding out on our base somewhere and Medic is twice as pissed because he can’t find it.” He shrugged and fell silent, pieces starting to come together for him. “He thinks I’m involved. He paid me a visit before I left tonight, let me know in no uncertain terms that if he found me helping it, there would be hell to pay.” 

“Today, I didn’t see the damned thing once, but I kept finding bodies. Pretty sure the Pyro was the reason why. I can’t imagine BLU spontaneously combusting every time they set foot near our intel.” He and Austin shared a chuckle over that mental image. “Seriously though, it’s hiding, Medic is getting really touchy about things, the whole damned base is a pressure cooker right now. You can feel the tension in the air. And as much as I appreciate the Pyro looking out for me, I’m sure Medic is gonna use that as an excuse to torment me next.” 

Austin, who had been silent this entire time, spoke up. His voice was hard as he looked at Mac. “Let me get this straight. Your medic is telling you all what to do, and nobody has taken him down a peg yet?” He stood, pacing the small room. “And now he’s beating up on our old Pyro because it won’t do what he wants it to.” He looked at Mac. “We found that the best thing to do with that pyro was to just let it do what it wanted. It’s sort of like a wild card. Damned thing disappears at the beginning of the battle, and then, just when you think you’re gonna die horribly, it pops up, kills something, and disappears again. We tried involving it in plans, but that didn’t go well. I don’t know if it doesn’t understand or just doesn’t care, but it gets distracted.” He sighed. “Everything’s going good and first thing you know, the Pyro is gone.” He chuckled. “Then, at the end of the match, you find a dead sniper or a dead spy, right where they could have taken out the whole team.” 

“You see,” he glanced at Martin, “no offense buddy, but all Pyro’s have quirks. And that one has more than most.” He shook his head. “I fought beside it for nearly three years and I still have no idea what’s under that mask. It’s weird, almost like it was raised by wolves or something too. One minute everything’s fine, then you say or do something that scares it and the thing comes up missing for a few days. You’ll catch glimpses of it from the corners of your eye, but it won’t come near you.” His lips twisted up in a half smile. “Toward the end, it wasn’t nearly as skittish, like it had started to trust us, but” he whistled faintly, “when it first came to base, that thing was all over the place.”

He sat down again. “If your medic is abusing it, that could be bad, Mac, real bad.” He shook his head slowly, brows drawn together in concern. “You see, our Pyro spent a lot of time with me and Demo, and I don’t know how much it learned from us, but I do know that it’s pretty good at fixing cars and busted radios. And if it knows how to fix radios, and learned anything at all from Demo, then it knows how to make explosives. I would urge your Medic to calm down and just let the Pyro be, before things get a whole lot more exciting at your base.” 

Mac picked up his beer and, finding it empty, sat the bottle down and reached for another. “You really think it would break contract like that? I mean, Mann Co. is pretty clear about class skills and how they’re used.”

Austin shrugged. “If you were in that things position, what would you do?” His eyes were sad. “I really value that Pyro, Mac. And if I know you, you’re not just here out of idle curiosity.” He popped the top on his bottle and drank. “You’re helping it, ain’t ya?”

Mac started to automatically deny the accusation, then remembered where he was. “I am trying to make things easier for it, yes. There’s not a whole lot I can do, we’re both in a real bad position over there.” He looked down at the dirty carpet underfoot. “I’m trying to make sure it has food, and a safe place to hide at night, but my hands are tied, Austin. I have to live with this team.”

Austin’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, you do, Mac. But so does it. And it seems to me like, with all your brains, you could figure out a way to do something about that Medic of yours instead of just going belly up in the grass.” He frowned. “You used to stand up for yourself, Mac. You weren’t afraid to fight anybody.” He looked directly at Mac. “What would your mama say about what you’re letting them do over there?”

Mac’s voice took on an edge. “Don’t bring my momma into this, Austin. You ain’t been on that base, you don’t know how bad it is.” He glanced over at Martin, seeing the sympathy and understanding in the other man’s eyes. “It’s not like I can just snap my fingers and Medic will go away, you know.” 

Martin nodded slowly. “He has a point. They’re stuck with the man. Best thing you could do, Mac, is transfer out like I did.”

Mac rubbed his forehead, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to figure out how to explain what he was feeling. “And then who’s gonna watch out for the damned Pyro?” He sighed. “I can’t help it much, but it’s better than nothing.” He nudged the paper carrier of empty beer bottles with his foot. “Enough said though, I thought we came here to drink. Wanna head back to the bar?”

Austin looked like he was going to say something else, then thought better of it. “Yeah, I feel like we might go look for some stress relief. What do you say, Mac? Time to show those bikers what two Texas boys can do?” 

Martin sighed as the two Engineers grinned and started out the door. It was going to be a long night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Everybody!!! My gift to you, Engie has a 'moment' with Medic and a much sweeter moment with our friendly feral Pyro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Distasty for dealing with my 3 AM "Oh God, this sucks!" rants! And just as a warning to you guys, things have been building slowly so far, but after this chapter, the kid gloves are coming off. The entire situation has reached a pivotal point and things will only go downhill from here.

Engie pulled up to his shop late on Sunday night. He climbed out of the truck and locked the doors, sticking the keys in his pocket. He had a black eye, bruised ribs, and was walking with a severe limp. He was also feeling calmer than he’d felt in ages. He didn’t bother going into his shop, instead heading directly into the base and knocking on the door of Medic’s clinic. At the sharp “Yes.” From within, he opened the door and slipped inside. 

Medic’s eyes widened and he sniffed the air tentatively, trying to sort through the mingled scents of blood, stale beer, body odor and vomit. “What is that smell?” He finally asked. 

Engie scuffed the toe of his boot across the floor like a naughty child. “That would be me, Doc.” Frowning, Medic walked over to Engie and prodded none to gently at his eye. “I was under the impression that you were visiting family. Would you care to tell me what happened?” 

Engie grinned. “Well, you see, Doc, there were these bikers. And my cousin thought it would be funny to pick a fight with one of them. So, he did. And then the rest of them wanted to fight too.” Engie shrugged. “Couldn’t let him have all the fun, so I might have decked a few of them myself.”

Medic looked askance at him. “Just how many of these bikers were there?” He pointed toward the Medigun. “Stand there.” 

Engie stood where Medic positioned him, relaxing as the healing red rays engulfed him. “Well, Doc, I think there were about 10 bikers but they had friends with trucks who joined in.”

Medic sighed, exasperated. “If we did not have a battle tomorrow, I would not heal you. Honestly, Engineer, this is something Scout would do. Or Demo.” He turned to hang the Medigun back on its rack. “I had assumed that you were more mature than this.” 

Engie sighed. “Yeah, but you know Doc, sometimes a man’s just gotta have some fun.” He frowned at the Medic. “One more question, Doc. Does that thing get rid of lice?”

Medic’s eyes widened and he immediately took two steps back from Engie. “Lice?” His voice was sharp. “You came back with lice?”

Engie shrugged and scratched himself. “Well, there was this girl…” His voice trailed off as Medic handed him a tube of cream from a drawer, his lips pursed in a sour frown. “Go back to your workshop, Engineer. Use the cream as directed and sleep there tonight. I will not have this spread to everyone in the base. And keep your hands out of your pants until you get outside.” He frowned and made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go, now. Schnell, schnell.”

Engie pocketed the cream and walked back to his workshop. 

Engie stepped inside the shop, whistling a jaunty tune under his breath. He locked the door behind himself and checked the silent alarms he’d placed on the door, the garage doors, and the windows. No one had been inside during his little weekend trip. He tossed his backpack onto the counter and dug in his pocket for the cream. It went straight into the trash bin. He was grinning ear to ear. Mentioning pubic lice to Medic had been a stroke of genius. The man wouldn’t come near him for days now, Engie was guessing. 

There was a jarring thud as something fell over in the loft. From the sound of it, several somethings. He froze by the workbench, head tilted to one side. For a moment, he’d forgotten about the Pyro problem. 

“Hey there.” He kept his voice soft. “I didn’t mean to scare you, little bit.” He took a step toward the sturdy ladder leading up to the loft and tried to decide on a course of action. If he went up there, the thing might feel trapped and attack him. He’d just gotten rid of a bunch of injuries, wasn’t sure if Medic would believe he’d slipped in the shower or off the ladder if he showed up for battle tomorrow all torn up again. 

He listened carefully for noises as he put one hand on the ladder. Silence. He placed one foot on the bottom most rung and the ladder creaked, the noise loud in the workshop. With a sigh and a muttered curse about patience, he stepped away and dug through his knapsack. 

He pulled one of the cans of soup that he’d bought and rooted around for a bit, pulling a pot out from under the cupboard. Opening the soup, he set it onto the small camp stove he kept in the shop and began to stir it. “Chicken noodle soup.” He spoke loudly enough for his voice to carry to the thing hiding in the loft. “Bought it today.” The metal spoon scraping against the side of the pot and the hiss of the burner’s flames were the only noises. “I don’t mind sharing, little bit, but you’ll have to come down and get it.” He pulled two bowls toward himself and when the rich aroma of the soup had permeated every inch of his workshop, he poured the soup into them. Leaving one bowl on the counter, with a spoon stuck neatly on the side, he walked over to his chair and sat. Sipping on the soup, he waited. 

There was a creak from upstairs, the sound of a booted foot scraping on wood. Engie sipped his soup in silence then reached over and turned on the small radio sitting by his chair. The mournful strains of a country song came out of the little device, and sipping his soup, he began to sing along softly. He wanted the thing in the loft to know exactly where he was. Fewer chances of a surprise encounter that way. He waited, patient as a stalking lion. When the things head stuck over the edge of the loft, peering at him, upside down, he sat quietly, bowl of soup in his hand, carefully avoiding direct eye contact. 

“It’s getting cold.” He said at last. The thing cocked its head to the side, then disappeared again. There was the sound of scraping and bumping from the loft and finally, a tentative foot in a heavy boot placed on the top rung. Engie remained in his seat as it slowly climbed to the bottom, eyes behind reflective lenses on him the entire time. Sitting quietly and sipping his soup, he watched as it crouched at the foot of the ladder for what felt like a lifetime, just watching him. Its head tilted to the side and it stood, backing away from him and toward the counter with the bowl on it. From his spot in the chair, he could see how the suit was starting to droop on it, as though whoever was inside had lost a significant amount of weight. He felt guilty suddenly and mentally inventoried the contents of his fridge and cupboards. He hadn’t thought about leaving something for it to eat while he’d been gone. There were a few leftovers and a can or two of pasta, but not much else in the shop. He was used to taking his meals inside with the rest of the team and didn’t really need to store much out here. 

It moved warily it to the counter where the soup was and, eyes still on him, grabbed for the bowl. He didn’t move, wondering if it would eat in front of him or disappear outside with its prize. He wasn’t prepared for what happened next. Backing toward the vent in the wall, the thing crouched down with the bowl of soup and hesitated, one hand curled under the thick rubber covering its face and neck. It seemed to contemplate the problem for a moment and then it grabbed the bowl again and darted for the bathroom. He watched it curiously. The curtain he’d hung over the door wavered as the thing passed through and there was silence for a moment, followed by the sound of ravenous slurping. He started to get up but stopped. Obviously, removing the mask to eat made it feel vulnerable. If he moved now, it would grow alarmed and all the work he’d done so far would be undone. 

When there was silence behind the curtain, he called out to it. “Hey there little bit. If you want more, I’ll fix it for you, but you need to give me the bowl back. It’s the only extra one I have.” Silence from behind the curtain. He leaned his head back in the chair, watching the curtain carefully. At last, the bowl, without a drop remaining in it, was set just outside the curtain by a pale ungloved hand that quickly withdrew behind the curtain again. 

“Okay.” Engie drawled. “Still hungry. I guess I’m to blame for that. Should have left more food for you with being gone as long as I was.” He got to his feet. “I’m gonna pick up that bowl and make some more soup for you. You just sit pretty, little bit, and I’ll hand it through to you when it’s ready.” He didn’t expect an answer as he walked over to the bowl and picked it up. He could feel the tension easing from his muscles as he backed away from the curtain, bowl in hand. Digging around a bit, he got out another can of soup and warmed it over the small fire, then put the entire can into the bowl. He kept the bathroom in the periphery of his vision the entire time. The curtain over the door was open a crack, and occasionally light would glint off smoky lenses as it watched him. Engie kept his body language loose and non-threatening as he worked. Just like handling an animal, he kept reminding himself. Don’t show fear. No sudden moves. He had never been so glad for his time spent on the ranch as a kid. 

Bowl in hand, he went back over to the curtain. Now was the time to test it, he thought. Holding the bowl, he put his hand on the other side of the curtain and held still. Did it trust him enough to take the bowl from his hand? Would it bolt? Or would it attack? He waited. Soon enough, the bowl was lifted from his hand, the brush of bare fingers over his telling him that it didn’t have all of its suit on back there. Engie walked back to his chair, stopping on the way to grab his guitar from it’s stand. Sitting back down, he flipped off the radio and began to strum, humming softly to himself. 

It didn’t take long for the Pyro to leave the bathroom, bowl in hand. The bowl was empty, and the critter sat it on the counter before slumping to the floor and curling its arms around its legs. The glass lenses were trained on Engie, head swaying gently back and forth in time to the music. Engie began to sing softly to it. He didn’t think his playing was magnificent, but at the moment he felt sort of like those Indian guys who charmed cobras. He snorted softly to himself at the mental image that conjured up, causing the creature to startle. Engie shook his head to himself and got back to singing. 

He could tell that it was tired by the way its shoulders drooped and its head dipped, swaying back and forth loosely on its shoulders. When it leaned against the cupboard and fell still, he wondered if it was sleeping. He sang some more, lowering the tone and volume, and when the thing hadn’t moved in a while, he stopped playing and set the guitar aside. It seemed to be resting well enough. He stood carefully, making as little noise as possible. Climbing into the loft, he noted that his bed had been slept in. Grabbing one of the blankets off the bed, he went back down the ladder and covered it up. He didn’t think it would get cold in its rubber suit, probably the opposite, if anything, but he felt better knowing that it had a blanket. 

Climbing back into the loft, he surveyed the damage to his bed. All the pillows were piled into a circle, with quilts and blankets strewn over them. He straightened out the bed, making it neatly. Then he picked up the loose items that had been knocked off his nightstand, a wrench, several books, a plastic tumbler and some loose change. Laying down on the bed and covering himself up, he turned off the lamp and with only the faint red glow of electronic sensors from his machines lighting the shop, he went to sleep.

Engie didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, but it had to be early. There was no light coming from the windows in the shop. He looked around in the gloom, trying to figure out what had wakened him, then jumped when he saw the figure hovering over his bed. Silhouetted by the glow of machines from below, it looked terrifying. He lay still, scarcely daring to breath as it stepped closer. There was something in its hand. He tried to keep his breathing even as it opened that hand and dropped something onto the bed. The ripe scent of honeysuckle filtered to his nose as he recognized the small twig laying on his pillow. The thing had brought him flowers. He grinned, then pulled back the covers, creating a dark space beside him. 

“You can sleep with me, if you want.” His voice was low, husky with sleep. He waited for a moment as the thing paused, shocked by his voice. “It’s alright, I won’t hurt you.” He kept his tone low and even. 

The creature stood for a moment, body poised between flight and wanting, then it sat down on the mattress, it’s slight weight barely causing a dip. It lay down, body tense, as he dropped the blankets over it. Engie lay still in the darkness, watching it carefully. He could feel the tension coiling in its body. Slowly, he reached out and laid his hand over its hand. It’s glove clad fingers entwined with his. It rolled onto its side, seeming to stare at him. Engie let his eyes drift closed again, knowing that it would either sleep with him or kill him but too tired to care at the moment. Gradually, it’s shivering stopped and it’s breathing evened out as the Pyro also fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medic spends some "quality time" with Scout. Medic contemplates life. Medic has a really messed up worldview. Enjoy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally done this entire story from Engie's POV, but decided to throw in this chapter on Medic and his weirdnesses in order to show his motivations more plainly. This is pretty dark and is not necessary reading to enjoy the story, however it will help put Medic into perspective. Don't feel obliged to read this if you are easily triggered. Special thanks to Distasty for reminding me that people cannot read my mind.

Medic sat still, taking deep breaths through his nose, blue eyes half lidded. He reached under his desk and ran a hand through Scout’s short blonde hair. “That is right, Junge. Just like that.” He allowed the corners of his lips to turn up a bit, the boy had improved a great deal since he’d come to the base. “Knowledge is power, Junge. And you have learned much about pleasing me, haven’t you?” He pretended to listen to the muffled affirmation from beneath the desk. 

When the boy had first arrived, he was irritating and obnoxious, always talking. It had taken a week to set himself up as a kindly father figure in the boy’s eyes, two more weeks to convince him to get on his knees. He sighed deeply, wearily. It had taken no time at all to convince Heavy that using the boy in this manner was about owning him, not loving him. Since that time, the Scout had become much quieter. He now knew his place, on his knees. He did not hesitate to do as Medic asked, no matter what he asked. And amusingly, the boy seemed to thrive under these conditions. He was so polite now. Always “Yes Boss” and “If you want, Boss.” No more of the useless protestations that merely led to pain. Of course, Medic thought, allowing the boy to know that his mother’s address was in his file may have helped a bit. Commenting on what a good-looking woman his mother was had definitely helped. Showing him candid photos of his mother, taken on a polaroid camera, had sealed the deal. 

Medic leaned back in his chair, giving the boy’s talented mouth more access to him. His mind, as usual, tended to drift when the boy was being kept busy and quiet. He considered his little kingdom, the control he had over every single member of this team. He could feel himself growing harder at the thought. He did not care if they won or lost, so long as they obeyed him. 

He loved that, when he walked down the hallway, the other members of his team looked at him with a mixture of fear and awe. He wanted them to fear him. “Fear is an aphrodisiac.” He muttered into the room, the silence broken only by his voice and the suckling noises from below. His hand fisted in Scout’s hair for a moment, tightening and drawing a mutter of protest from Scout. No matter what he did, how cruel he was, the boy would not bite him. The one time he’d been bitten, a bit of dentistry work had cured that problem. No teeth, no biting, he thought, satisfied that he’d been able to teach that valuable lesson to Scout. 

He moaned faintly, the memories of teaching people proper behavior doing more for him than Scout ever could. He deserved the respect that he was given, enjoyed the fact that his voice was the voice of command in his world. If only his father could see him now, he thought. That evil man, the one who said that he would amount to nothing, that he had no discipline, would be astounded by what he’d accomplished. He grunted, forcing himself further down Scout’s throat, the gagging noises from beneath the desk adding to his growing need. Grabbing the back of the boy’s head, he forced it further down, burying his nose in soft flesh and cutting off his air supply. When the boy stopped struggling, he released him, listening to the gasping breaths drawn in through his nose as his mouth and tongue remained in motion. “Yes, well trained.” The words were uttered softly, but still the boy responded to the praise. He allowed himself to pet the boy’s soft blonde hair, a few gentle strokes to encourage him. 

Allowing his eyes to drift shut, he imagined for a moment that it was the verdammt Pyro under the desk, broken and trained, no longer sneaking around and bringing chaos to his ordered world. He’d known there would be trouble when the previous Pyro had transferred, they were such a quirky breed. One never knew how a Pyro was going to react to a given situation, if it were up to him, he would not even have one on the team. Too much defiance in their spirits. It had to do with their close relationship to the flames, he’d long ago decided. So much work to control a Pyro. He had been happy with the way the previous one took to discipline, bowing down readily and giving him the control that he wanted. This Pyro though, spoiled by its prior team, had no discipline. He’d told Heavy that it was a spy, finding it very easy to convince the bigger man to do what he wanted. Of course, the Heavy was not fond of traitors, a fact that he’d learned from reading the man’s file. He’d read every file for every person on his team, medical reviews, psychiatric evaluations, he knew what made them tick, so to speak. Knowledge was power. And power was an even greater aphrodisiac than fear. 

His hips shifted as his mind turned to the new Pyro again. When he found it, there would be discipline the likes of which no one on this base had seen before. He fully intended to break the thing down into its component pieces and put it back together exactly as he wanted. By the time he was finished with the new Pyro, it would jump through hoops for him. It would do exactly as it was told, when it was told and when left without orders, it would sit around like an empty suit, fearing to even breathe without permission. He groaned, his fingers clenching in Scout’s hair again. 

It had been years since he’d faced a challenge like this. He supposed that, in a way, he should be thankful to the creature for breaking him out of the complacency that he’d fallen into. For forcing him to be creative and to look more closely at the Engineer. That man had never been a true member of the team, he did his job, but he seemed to always have an excuse for avoiding the more arduous tasks that Medic sat for the others. He was slow to take commands and, although compliant, Medic felt that the man saw more than he should with that giant intellect of his. So long as he did not openly rebel, Medic had been content to leave him alone thus far. However, he thought, if the man was actually helping the Pyro, there would be a reckoning. 

He straightened a bit at the soft knock on the clinic doors. Tapping Scout twice on the forehead, the command for silence, he straightened his tie and picked up a pen, holding it poised over a form. “Come in.” He modulated his voice carefully, controlling his breathing so that Scout’s presence would not be known. After all, he thought, he wouldn’t want the rest of the team to know how he got the Junge to be quiet. The boy was his and his alone, although occasionally loaned out to Heavy as an incentive for continued obedience. 

Sniper stepped into the room, Heavy at his back. “You wanted to see me, Doc?” He twisted his hat nervously between his fingers, eyes darting from wall to wall, landing anywhere except on the Medic. 

“I did, Sniper. Please, come in and have a seat.” He indicated the chair in front of his desk. When Sniper walked forward and sat down, Medic smiled. He’d been practicing this smile in the mirror. He referred to it as his ‘benign benefactor’ smile. “I need your help.” He leaned forward a bit, ignoring Scout’s questing mouth for the moment. “As you may have noticed, I am having some trouble containing our Pyro. I fear that it is attempting to align itself with the BLU base, and I would like to spend some time with it, confirming for myself which side of this war it is on.” The lie fell easily from his lips. 

Sniper glanced at him and away, eyes betraying his anxiety at being here, at having to speak with other humans, this human in particular. Medic hid his grimace. For the most part, he thought the man was a waste of flesh, should be broken down into his component parts and sold. However, RED insisted that he keep the man around. And he was easy enough to control, all it took was the fear of embarrassment, of being brought to the attention of his teammates. He’d been so easy to break, a few weeks of continuous attention had been all that was needed to make the man do anything to avoid being in the spotlight again. 

“How can I help, Doc? I mean, I’m not sure what you want me to do?” He never phrased a statement, they were always questions. He was so unsure of himself, so malleable. Medic took a deep calming breath before he continued. Between the man sitting in front of him and Scout’s quietly busy mouth, this was, he paused, searching for the word, delicious. Weakness above and below his desk, and him controlling it all. 

“I want you to trap the Pyro for me. It is very elusive, and Heavy and I are having some difficulty containing it off the battlefield.” His eyes narrowed, his stare icy now. “You are capable of this, aren’t you? I would hate to think that your failures would need to be brought to the team’s attention.”

Sniper frowned and leaned back in his chair. His eyes darted like trapped animals, looking for escape. Deliberately, Medic allowed his arousal to show on his face. He grinned lasciviously and glanced down at his lap when Sniper next glanced at him. Sniper paled even further, afraid the look was being directed at him. 

“No, I can do this, Doc, I swear. I’ll start work on it tomorrow, if that’s okay?” He glanced around the room again, looking ready to collapse now. “If that’s all, Doc?” He nodded his head toward the door and Medic nodded, giving him permission to leave. Sniper bolted.

As soon as the doors closed behind him, Medic closed his eyes and thought of the Pyro, unmasked and frightened, kneeling on the floor before him. He envisioned stripping it of the safe haven that its suit most likely provided it. Of forcing it to go to dinner naked, to be bare and exposed in front of the entire team, a hermit crab without a shell. He allowed his mind to dwell on the deformities that could be beneath the mask, of all the ways he had of increasing those deformities. He could feel himself becoming more and more engorged as he focused on the look of utter despair on his fantasy Pyro’s face. The fear and hopelessness hiding behind glass lenses. The soft body exposed, a canvas for his work. The cries for mercy that he would not grant. Medic groaned. He forced himself into the back of Scout’s throat and allowed himself to release, moaning loudly as the boy gagged and tried to swallow, feeling himself throb as the boy looked up at him, eyes pleading, his seed mingling with a small trickle of vomit and dripping from the boys nose. Medic pulled himself out of the boy’s mouth and caressed his cheek. “A very good job, Scout.” His fingers dipped lightly into the small amount of vomit the boy hadn’t managed to swallow. “But, look at the mess you made. You need to clean this, or I shall have to punish you again.” He allowed his mouth to fall into stern lines. “You don’t want that, do you?” 

Scout shook his head. “Lemme just go get a cloth, Boss. I’ll get this mess cleaned up real fast.” 

Medic shook his head. “No Scout. You were told to swallow and you did not. Now you shall clean this mess with your tongue, like a good boy.” He could feel himself twitching again as the boy looked at him with eyes that were deep wells of despair. “Well, get to it. I don’t have all day to wait for you, Scout.”

Obediently, Scout lowered his head.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A most enlightening conversation with BLU Spy leaves our darling Engie with more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to Distasty for dealing with my neuroses involving this story, and thank you to all who have left comments and kudos! They truly inspire me to continue!

When Engie’s eyes flew open, the first thing he thought was “What a strange dream.” Then he saw the crushed sprig of honeysuckle laying on the other pillow and sighed. Not a dream then. He inhaled, the mingled scents of honeysuckle and smoke tickling his nostrils. The bed was empty, the indent in the pillow the only trace of Pyro. He groaned and rolled over onto his back, stretching. His eyes went to the clock beside the bed and he cursed under his breath, rolling over and sitting up. Dressing quickly, he went downstairs, calling out softly to let the Pyro know he was coming. Heavy silence lay thick on the shop, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He chuckled, walking over to the coffee pot, it was not quite full, looked like someone had put on the coffee and then taken a cup. A bowl of oatmeal sat beside the pot, warmth still lingering in the bowl. 

“Huh.” Engie poked a spoon into the contents. Blueberries. Oatmeal. He took a bite and moaned. The smooth textures and flavors blended on his tongue. Oats, brown sugar, blueberries. Perfection. Glancing at the clock, he finished eating and ran some water into the bowl, sitting it in the sink to be washed later. He hated leaving dishes behind, but he was running late. Gulping a cup of coffee, he grabbed his tools and headed for the locker room to meet the rest of the team. 

Engie directed all his attention to the contents of his locker, ignoring the others. He had walked into the locker room and immediately been regaled with stories of venereal diseases contracted while drunk, all told in Demo’s rolling Scottish brogue and made even harder to understand by the fact that the man was completely inebriated. Engie checked his wristwatch. It was 7:55 am. He prayed that whatever had happened to Demo to make him need to drown himself in a bottle at this time of day never happened to anyone else on the team. Meanwhile, the Scot leaned against his locker and continued on and on about some “lass in Glasgow” who had tried to burn away her problems. The Scot laughed uproariously as the story ended, slapping his knee and guffawing. Engie sighed and checked that his pistol was loaded. For the third time. Perhaps the story he’d given Medic had worked a bit too well. 

Engie straightened as he heard Heavy’s harsh rumble of a voice behind him. Demo looked at the bigger man and immediately fell silent, backing away with a “Have at it” gesture. Medic glared at the drunk in a way that promised later retribution. Engie turned slowly, pistol still in his hand. 

“Well, Engineer, it would seem that your notoriety precedes you this morning.”

Engie dipped his head in a nod to Medic. “Would seem that way, Doc. I wasn’t aware that confidential medical information was bandied about the base quite like this.”

Medic’s smile was cold. “Ah, but what you have is communicable. The others needed to be warned for their own safety. You see how it is, don’t you?”

Engie nodded. “Oh, don’t worry, Doc. I do see.” He sighed and holstered his pistol. “Is there something I could help you with?” 

Medic glanced at the big man standing beside him. “Actually, there is.” Engie noted how his fingers twitched against the bone saw sheathed at his belt. “If you see the Pyro today, I would like for you to inform me immediately. It seems that the wretch is several weeks behind in its check ups. I would like to have the paperwork done before the Administrator questions me about this.” His smile was cunning. “It would be terrible to have to report a teammate for lack of cooperation.”

“Don’t know why you think I’ll be any more likely to see Pyro than anybody else on the base, but I’ll pass the message along, Doc.” He shrugged, rechecking his pistol. “You might wanna pass that word along to the others too, if you haven’t already.”

“Oh, do not worry, Engineer. Your teammates are well aware of what needs to happen if they see the Pyro.” Medic’s smile was smug. “I have no doubt that I shall have that detestable creature in my clinic within the next several days.”

Engie nodded and turned away. He turned the other man’s words over in his head repeatedly, knowing that the threat of being reported was aimed at him. Sighing deeply, he ignored Scout’s repeated comments about STD’s and the whispers of the rest of his team. He tried to console himself with thoughts of the many inventive ways Medic could meet his end. Picking up his toolbox, he walked toward the intel room, ready to set up for the day.

Engie took a deep breath of the stale air in the basement and let it out through his nose. Most of the time, even though he was alone down here, someone would stop by and check on him. It was nearly eleven am and he hadn’t seen a single soul. He didn’t think that loneliness would have been a problem, but now that he was facing the sheer mind-numbing boredom of isolation from the rest of his team, he could see how it would weigh on a man’s spirit. 

Engie sat down by his sentry and picked up a book. Thank God he kept technical journals in his toolbox. He quickly lost himself in the physics of quasars, not noticing the passage of time as his mind contemplated space. 

The noise was what alerted him that he was not alone. A throat clearing “Hrm” from the hallway outside the intel room. Engie closed his book and looked around. Nothing. He picked up his shotgun and walked into the hallway, wary. Nothing moved out here. He whirled around, battle honed senses triggered by a change in the air currents as though someone had walked behind him. The short hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he swung the gun like a club, whooshing it through the empty air in front of him. Backing up into a corner, he called out “Who’s there?” 

No answer. Engie muttered several very unflattering words under his breath about spies and called out to the empty air again. He had just begun to relax when a reply came from the other side of the wall he was leaning against.

“Put your gun down and let us talk like civilized men, Engineer. I don’t want to harm you; I am merely curious about something.”

Engie frowned. He recognized the voice, it was the BLU spy, but he didn’t recall the snake ever coming just to visit. He weighed the logic behind simply shooting the man and being done with it, but a mix of his own boredom, loneliness, and curiosity won out.

“What do you want to talk about?” He called back, controlling his voice to keep the slight quaver of indecision from showing. “Step around this corner and talk to me face to face, Spy.”

There was a slight hesitation. “You have a reputation for being a man of your word, Engineer. Promise me that you will not shoot me until I’ve had a chance to discuss my reasons for being here. If you wish, you may shoot me afterwards.”

Engineer’s curiosity was at a fever pitch now. A spy offering to be shot? Engie couldn’t recall this ever having happened before. He shook his head, knowing that his next words would get him either fired or killed, most likely both, if anyone ever found out. “I promise.” His voice was curt, and he leaned further into the corner, glancing at his sentry from the corner of his eye, making sure that it covered him. “Come on around here, but don’t come too far. I’m not gonna disable a perfectly good sentry just because you feel chatty.”

The air shimmered about five feet from him and his finger tightened on the trigger at the familiar sound of decloaking. He concentrated on keeping his finger relaxed when every instinct in him urged him to pull the trigger. 

The BLU spy stood before him, tailored suit immaculate, mask smoothed in place, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lip. Engie shook his head. “Son, you’ve got some balls, coming all the way down here. You wanna tell me what you’re after?” 

The spy smiled. “No offer of a drink or a ‘sit down,’ Engineer?” his voice was slightly sarcastic. “Where is that famous southern hospitality you Texans are so fond of going on about?” He brushed one hand casually over his sleeve, removing an invisible to all but him speck of dust. “And I’ve gone to all this trouble to assure that we could speak alone.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Engie’s voice was steady now, “There’s a war going on over our heads. And you are most definitely not on my side. Now, speak your piece or die.” He let his trigger finger twitch. “Your choice, snake.”

“Very well then.” The spy’s eyes ran up and down him casually, taking in the twitching finger. “I’ve attempted to exchange pleasantries with you. I shall, how do you say, cut to the chase.” He reached for the cigarette case in his inner vest pocket, letting his hands fall back to his sides when Engie shook his head. “I am curious. Your Pyro seems to be missing more than present lately. Perhaps you could explain this to me? Is it ill?”

Engie shook his head. “I fail to see how that is any of your business, Snake.”

The Spy shrugged eloquently. “As I’ve told you, I am curious. And when I am curious about something, I do not rest until I have an answer.” The tall slim man held up one hand, palm out in a placating gesture. “I do understand about team loyalty, Engineer, and admire you for not wishing to speak ill of your team…”

Engie cut him off suddenly. “Now what the hell is that supposed to mean? You want to come right out and say it instead of beating around the bush?”

“Very well. Your team is dysfunctional.”

Engie could feel his finger starting to tighten again. “Wanna explain yourself?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Your team does not function well, Engineer. I believe that is the meaning of the word, yes?” He sighed. “Your Medic wants to be the team leader, but he does not have the slightest grasp of strategy. So, he uses his Heavy to force the rest of you into situations where you simply cannot hope to win. Even an idiot can see this. It’s common knowledge, Labourer, that your team is not well balanced.” He shrugged again. “No offence meant of course.”

“Of course.” Engie could feel the sarcasm dripping from his words. He felt a familiar flush of anger, but tamped it down, knowing that so far, the Spy had not said anything untrue. He contemplated the situation and finally spoke. “So, what do you think is going on with our Pyro? You tell me your opinion, and I’ll tell you if you’re right or wrong. That’s as close as I’m gonna come to discussing this with you.” 

Spy nodded. “Fair enough. I think that your Medic is attempting to bully your Pyro and that your Pyro is not having it. Is that close enough to the truth for you?”

Engie shook his head. He was afraid to admit the truth behind the statement, unsure how the admission of weakness would be used against his team. “What on earth would make you think that, Spy?” 

“Simply put, I am a spy. I hear things that other people do not want heard.” He smiled faintly. “Let us imagine that I were standing somewhere, and I overheard your Medic speaking with your Heavy. About your Pyro.” He sighed, lips turning downward. “And about you. I would be left with several choices.” He held up a gloved finger. “One choice, I could pretend I heard nothing. Simply go about my business and forget the conversation.” He held up a second finger. “Two, I could return to my team with this knowledge, and we could use it against your team, resulting in overwhelming defeats.” A third finger went up. “Or three, I could come to you and tell you what I’ve overheard.” He shrugged again, lowering his fingers. “I am here.”

Engie’s brow furrowed. He could feel a headache lurking just behind his eyes. “Why would you come here and tell me this, Snake? Unless you were trying to drive a wedge into my team, make me suspicious of them? Would that be about right?”

Spy shook his head. “Hardly, Labourer. Consider this. I have fought against you for the past five years. You are a worthy opponent. A difficult opponent. And, from what I have seen, a good man. Your Medic, however, is not. He is a pompous ass who should have been smothered at birth.” Engie flinched a bit at the hatred in the other man’s voice. “He is a fool who should not be allowed to continue breathing.” The spy paused and took a deep breath. “I apologize. He is your teammate. My personal feelings in this matter sometimes overwhelm me. Be that as it may though, I felt the need to speak with you about this problem before making use of this information. I would hate to be deprived of an opponent worthy of myself.” He smiled, preening a little. “After all, not every spy has the honor of matching wits with a man who has a degree in Astrophysics.” He snorted in amusement. “Among the other degrees, that is the most impressive to me.” 

Engie felt the overwhelming urge to lay down the gun and rub his temples. This conversation was not what he’d been expecting at all. “So, if our Pyro were to be having trouble with our Medic, would you happen to have a suggestion for me? I’m not saying that’s the problem, mind you, just curious.”

Spy shook his head. “I am at a loss, Labourer. Your Medic wishes to treat you and the Pyro as enemies instead of attempting to build a team. It makes no sense from a tactical standpoint. Be very careful in the future, Engineer. I fear that you cannot trust those who should be trusted without pause. However, you are not as alone as you think. We are paid to be enemies, but some have earned our enmity more than others.” He glanced down at the floor. “And on that note, I should be going.” He glanced up at the Engineer, sympathy showing in his features. “I am glad that we had this talk.” He pressed a button on his watch and disappeared in a cloud of vapor. 

Engineer stood quietly for several minutes, listening to the sound of footsteps walking away and the dead silence that followed before turning back to his sentry gun and dispenser. Picking up his book again, he held it for some time before realizing that it was upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember guys, for every kudo, a baby Pyro gets its first Zippo! Support baby Pyro's everywhere!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to heat up as Engie becomes more and more ostracized by his team... And then he goes and scares away the Pyro...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thank you to Distasty for all the ideas and the support, and a huge thank you to everyone who leaves kudos and comments.

Engie noticed the odd looks when he carried his gear to his locker. Demo and Solly were standing close together, watching him from the corners of their eyes. Engie sighed. He’d seen it before, the sidelong glances, the subtle shifting away from a teammate. Medic had made him a target. He groaned as Scout came over and leaned against his locker door. 

“Heya Engie.” The boy’s accent was so thick, Engie could have cut it with a knife.

“Hello, Scout.” He turned to face the younger man. “What’s up?”

Scout shrugged. “Just wanted to let you know that maybe you, uh, shouldn’t come to dinner tonight.” A flush of embarrassment swept up his cheeks and he looked away from Engie. He shuffled his feet nervously on the floor. “Medic thinks you might still be contagious, ya know.” 

Engie shrugged. “Whatever, Scout. I wasn’t all that hungry anyway.” He shut the door to his locker, slid the lock in place and started walking toward the door. Scout bounced along beside him, talking as he walked. “So yeah, uh, anyway. I just wanted to let you know, right?” He paused, looking at Engineer from worried blue eyes. “No, uh, no hard feelings, right?” 

Engie sighed and stopped walking. He could feel the familiar flush of anger sweeping over him. “What do you think, Scout?” He stopped what could have easily become a tirade when he saw the hints of pain in the boy’s eyes. Taking a deep breath, he dragged his hand down over his face. “No hard feelings Scout. It’s not your fault.” He sighed. “Now why don’t you go on back to the others and enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll be fine. It’s not like I don’t have work to do anyway.” He chuckled; the sound false to even his ears. “Sentries don’t maintain themselves, you know?”

Engie stood still in the doorway leading outside, watching as Scout backed away from him, still bouncing on the balls of his feet. He glanced over his shoulder, face turning pale as Heavy walked into the room, Sasha cradled in his arms. “Yeah, anyway, we’re having crab. Wouldn’t want you accidentally eating a cousin or anything.” Scout glanced at Engie apologetically, hoping to mitigate the barbed jab, then walked over to the big man, no longer bouncing. 

Engie frowned as the door slid shut behind him. What the hell had that been about, he wondered? It seemed almost like Scout felt bad about shutting him out? Maybe? He grunted and swung open the door to his workshop, stepping inside and sitting down in his chair. He’d never really given much thought to Scout’s relationship with Heavy and Medic, but he did remember them giving the younger man a hard time when he’d first shown up on the base. And then, one day all that had changed. Scout had gotten quieter, started dogging Medic’s footsteps like a lost puppy and doing whatever the older man told him to do. 

Engie was lost in contemplation for a moment, trying to unravel the mystery. He vaguely remembered finding Scout sitting alone on the roof, about a month after coming to the base, face streaked with tears but no marks visible, and had reached out a hand to the youngster’s shoulder. He remembered the way the younger man had flinched aside with a cry. Scout had cringed, looking over his shoulder. When he’d seen who was standing behind him, he’d immediately started to bluster and tried to pick a fight with Engie. Looking back, Engie attached new significance to the boy’s actions. Something had happened, and whatever it was, it had scared him bad. So bad that now if Heavy or Medic said “Jump,” he did it without question. Leaning back in his chair, Engie closed his eyes. He wasn’t gonna nap, he thought to himself, just rest for a minute. 

Engie started awake to the sound of clinking crockery. He jerked upright, not sure where he was for a brief moment. He looked around the shop, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from and then relaxed back into his chair. The Pyro was in the kitchen. It looked over it’s shoulder when it heard him stirring and waved tentatively. It carried a large cereal bowl in one hand and warily approached Engie. Stopping about four feet from him, it sat the bowl on the ground and then slowly backed up. 

“What have you got there, pardner?” Engie leaned forward in his chair, sniffing deeply. Unless he was mistaken, the bowl was filled with beef stew. The Pyro made a few incomprehensible noises in its mask and pushed the bowl a bit further toward him. Then it stepped back and, squatting on its haunches, watched to see what he would do. 

Engie frowned, glancing from the Pyro to the bowl again. It was fairly obvious that the critter was trying to feed him. He wondered where it had gotten the food from and why it was offering it to him instead of just devouring it in private. He stood up and walked over to the bowl, picking it up. The Pyro clapped its hands together happily, encouraging him. 

Watching it from the corner of his eye, Engie walked back to his chair and sat down. Noticing that there was no spoon, he raised his bowl to his lips and sipped at the thick broth. He let out an exaggerated “Mmmm” of contentment and sipped once more. The Pyro, still rocking back and forth on its haunches, had its head tilted to the side, looking for all the world like a confused pigeon. 

“What?” Engie asked. “Why are you looking at me like that? I’m eating it. It’s good.” 

The Pyro held up one finger in a “Wait” gesture. Engie watched as it walked to the sink and pulling a spoon from the silverware drying there, tossed it to him. He couldn’t help but chuckle as it settled back down to watch him eat. “Don’t get much by you, do I?” He laughed lightly, then spooned a bite of beef into his mouth. “This tastes like Heavy’s stew. It’s good.” 

The Pyro made a small noise to the affirmative and Engie’s eyes widened. “You didn’t take this from Heavy, did you?” As the critter nodded, Engie groaned. “Did he see you take it?” 

Acting offended by the question, the Pyro shook its head vigorously. Rising onto its tiptoes, it mimed stealthily opening a door. “You stole it from the refrigerator?” When the Pyro nodded, Engie breathed a sigh of relief. Most likely, no one would notice a bowl or two of leftovers missing. Still, Engie sighed, it was not a good habit to get into. “You really ought not to do that, Py. If you get caught, they’ll hurt you bad.” He looked away as the red suited shoulders slumped. Pyro turned its masked face from Engie, its posture reflecting abject misery. “Aw, hey now, don’t be like that.” Engie tried to sound cheerful. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, little bit.”

The Pyro perked up a bit and Engie smiled at it. “Tell you what, if you bring me my guitar, I’ll play for you before we go back to sleep. Sound good?”

He laughed out loud as the critter jumped up off the floor and ran to his guitar. Its fingers reverently closed around the wood, holding it carefully as a newborn as it carried the instrument to Engie. He took the guitar from its hands and settled it onto his lap, fingers curving around the fretboard as he strummed gently. “Anything in particular you want to hear?” 

The little creature shrugged and sat down on the floor, just out of reach. Engie began to strum the guitar, singing softly, the melancholy strains of a ballad filling the room. He was soon lost in the playing, not noticing as the Pyro scooted closer and closer to him. The weight on his leg brought him back to his surroundings. He glanced down, the Pyro’s head was leaning on his knee, the thin shoulders under the suit relaxed and sagging, using his legs for support. Engie smiled to himself and kept strumming the guitar, his mind going back to the ranch and the dog he’d had. He remembered it taking the same position so often, leaning on his leg, head on his lap, listening to him play. He wanted to reach down and pet the Pyro’s head, but wasn’t certain if it was ready for him to touch it without warning yet. His playing began to grow softer, the words to the ballads and love songs more whispered than sung. The weight on his leg grew as it relaxed more and more. Engie, still singing, stopped strumming and rested his hand briefly on the mask covered head on his knee. The Pyro, under the spell of the music, snuggled into his hand. Engie stopped singing, swinging the guitar to one side of his chair to let him pet the thing more easily. 

Suddenly the Pyro’s whole body stiffened, and it threw itself across the floor, colliding with a half-built sentry in its path, sending metal clattering in all directions. Engie froze, watching it. The thing rolled and scrabbled to get its balance back. When it was crouched on all fours, it turned that blank mask toward him, watching. Engie held his hand out, slowly, carefully, no sudden movements, he thought to himself. 

“It’s okay, little bit. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He kept his voice low, gentling it the way he would a wild mustang on the ranch. “It’s okay. Come on back here, I won’t hurt you.” The words became a slow soothing stream of nonsense as Engie focused on the Pyro. He slid off the chair and onto the floor, movements controlled and careful. When he was sitting fully on the floor, he reached out for it again. It tilted its head to the side, watching warily. 

“Come on, little bit. Let me pet you some more.” He reached his hand across the distance separating them, holding it steady. Tentatively, the Pyro reached for him, fingers crossing the gulf between them. When its fingertip touched his, it suddenly drew its hand back with a loud exclamation and ran. Straight for the pallets in the back of the shop, boots thudding on the floor, it dived in behind them and disappeared in a rattle of sheet metal, too worked up to remain silent. 

Engie sighed and picked himself up off the floor. Dusting himself off with his hands, he went to the small sink and began to clean up the dishes there, keeping himself busy while his mind went over what had just happened. Obviously, the thing was starting to trust him, and if it’s reaction to being touched was any clue, it was afraid of that trust. He dried the dishes and stacked them carefully on the counter, to be taken back inside in the morning. He grinned as he remembered the bowl of stew. The Pyro was like a cat leaving dead mice on the doorstep. In some weird Pyro way, it was trying to take care of him. That boded well for the relationship he was trying to build with it. If it was trying to feed him, that meant he mattered to it. And that was a big step forward. 

Engie sat down at his workbench and began the tedious task of repairing and maintaining sentries after the day’s fighting. He enjoyed this task; he could let his hands move without his brain needing to pay much attention to what they were doing. Switching on the radio and turning the volume down a little, he began to hum along while he cleaned and polished and calibrated. He lost himself in the work quickly. When he looked up at the clock again, it was nearly midnight and he groaned as he straightened his back, vertebrae popping. 

Hanging his tools back on their rack, he glanced around the shop, making certain that everything was in its place, then used the bathroom and climbed the ladder to his bed in the loft. 

Engie stared up at the corrugated tin roof of the shop and tried to sleep. He’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, although, according to the luminescent dial of his alarm clock, it had only been forty-five minutes. He groaned and tried to get comfortable but kept finding every lump in the mattress. When rain started to patter softly onto the tin just over his head, he snuggled further under the quilt, readjusted his pillow and let the rain sooth him. It worked for all of three minutes. Just as he was about to doze off, the image of Pyro, shivering with cold and huddled under a bush came to him. Engie cursed. Swinging his legs out of the bed, he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, then slid his sockless feet into his boots. “I’ll just look around a little.” he muttered under his breath, “Five minutes, no more.” He grabbed his canvas work jacket and pulled it on, the sheepskin lining warming quickly against his bare chest. Climbing down the ladder and crossing to the door, he grabbed his battered Stetson off the hat stand and shoved it onto his head, then stepped outside. 

Immediately, the chill soaked into his bones. A layer of fog lay over the ground, obscuring everything below his knees. Engie shook his head and started walking through the fog, the single light on the front of his workshop pooling around him. He started for the front of the base, then changed his mind and went around the side, intending to check the vent behind the bush to see if Pyro was there. 

As the water dripped off the brim of his hat, he was thankful for both it and the oiled canvas of his jacket. This was a miserable night to be outside. Engie stepped around the corner and into darkness. He knew this base like the back of his hand, so getting turned around was not gonna be a problem. Besides, he told himself, it’s just a little rain. His boots splashed through a puddle and he paused, listening. He could have sworn that he heard a similar splash nearby. 

The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he turned slowly, wishing suddenly that he’d brought his shotgun. His hands curled into fists as he saw Medic and Heavy, silhouetted under the sodium vapor lamp in front of the base. The yellow glow of the lamp tinged the fog a sickly yellow, washing out the colors in the two men and lending a tone of the surreal to the entire scene. 

Engie froze, unsure if they had seen him or not. As he stood in the shadows, watching, Medic raised his syringe gun, pointing it straight at him. Engie raised his hands and stepped out of the shadows. “Don’t shoot Doc, it’s just me.” For a moment, the syringe gun stayed leveled at him and Engie seriously thought the Medic was gonna shoot him, but finally the tall German lowered it to his side.

“What are you doing out here, Engineer?” Medic tilted his head slightly upward. “It is raining, and a miserable night.”

“I thought I heard something.” Engie lied smoothly. “Thought maybe it was your rogue Pyro and came outside to look around for it.”

“With no weapon? You know the thing is dangerous, don’t you?” Medic’s eyes narrowed in distrust as he weighed Engie’s words. “It could seriously harm you, and then we would be without an Engineer.” 

Engie felt a grim smile spread across his face. “I don’t think it could hurt me, Doc.” He shrugged. “Besides, there’s always respawn.” 

Medic sighed. “You would do what if it attacked you? Sing to it, perhaps?” 

Engie felt cold heat flash through him. His voice came out a low growl. “Why don’t you ask any BLU who’s made it to the Intel room that question, Doc. Just ask ‘em if I sing them away from the briefcase.” His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “Not all of us need somebody to watch our backs.” He looked pointedly at Heavy, standing behind Medic with a look of boredom on his rain-soaked face. “And I could ask just what you two are doing, sneaking around out here in the middle of the night.” 

Medic’s face flushed red briefly, his body tensing. He relaxed suddenly and took a deep breath, blowing it out through his lips in a quiet hiss. “A fair enough question, I suppose, Engineer.” He glanced around briefly, then back at Engie. “However, could we discuss this in your shop? It is damp out here. I do not like damp weather. It makes my bones ache.” 

Engie nodded and led the two men to his workshop, praying that the Pyro hadn’t returned while he’d been outside verbally sparring with the Medic. Opening the door, he glanced around quickly, then gestured for the others to enter. When they were standing inside, dripping on his floor, he closed the door and followed them in. Pulling off his jacket and hat, he hanged them up and gestured to the pegs. “Just put your wet gear there. I don’t want to have to mop tonight.” 

When the wet outerwear was hanging on the stand, the three men walked over to the chairs Engie used for company. He gestured for Heavy and Medic to sit, then pulled up the stool from his workbench, perching on the edge of it. “Now, that discussion we were gonna have?” He raised an eyebrow, watching the two men settle themselves. 

Medic sat primly on the edge of his seat. The warmth of the room was starting to affect him though, and his shoulders began to drop slightly. “We were looking for the Pyro.”

Engie shook his head. “I sort of figured that one out on my own, Doc. Why tonight though?” He glanced up as the pounding of rain on the roof intensified. “It’s real nasty out there.” 

Medic glanced around the shop, taking in the neat rows of tools and the machines sitting in rows against the wall. “I’ve spoken with the Sniper. He agreed to set some traps. Traps that capture without killing.” Medic glanced at Heavy. “We were checking to determine whether we had captured the Pyro yet.”

Engie shook his head. “I don’t understand why you can’t just let it go, Doc. This Pyro is getting to be an obsession with you.” 

Medic’s back stiffened with anger. “This Pyro is not an obsession. It is stealing supplies, doing who knows what with them. It is lurking about, an uncontrolled element. I will not have this on my base.” He scoffed. “It is bad enough that I have to deal with an Engineer who wishes to sleep in a shed. And this on top of it! It is an affront to the precision required to maintain security in this base. It is a personal affront to the effort I have put forth to maintain order here.” 

Engie stared at Medic, not sure what to say. He’d known the man had some serious control issues, but this was taking things to a whole other level. The man’s face was red, his eyes bulging as he ranted on and on about security and control. Finally, he took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. 

“I must apologize, Engineer. I would hope that you, with your ordered world of machines could understand what I’m speaking about. It is much harder when one is working with humans. They are… messy.” Medic frowned. “They must be controlled. Otherwise, we shall all fall into chaos. This Pyro is the first step toward that chaos. Everyone doing what they wish, with no concern for others. Paugh! It is not professional.”

Engie leaned back in his chair, eyes going to Heavy. The big man simply sat, looking as though he had heard this a thousand times over, fingers twitching slightly on his big knees as he stared at the wall near Engie’s head. He glanced at Engie finally, then let his eyes slide away, focusing on the wall again.

Engie hurried them out the door soon after. He collapsed in his chair when they were gone, rubbing his forehead. That Medic was insane. He’d worked with several medics and they all had quirks, but this went beyond quirkiness and into full blown, Engie paused in thought. He didn’t even know what to call this. Vaguely, he wondered if the Administrator was aware. With one last glance toward the doorway, he climbed the ladder, stripped and went back to bed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engie revisits his past and Medic engages in a bit of unsanctioned dental work. Enjoy!

Engie woke to a murky greyness that had as much to do with mood as with the day. He yawned and stretched, heavy eyelids causing him to regret his late-night wanderings. He climbed out of his warm bed and dressed quickly, leaving the loft. The rain continued to drizzle down as he prepared his breakfast, increasing to a steady downpour as he walked to the base to gather his gear for the day’s fighting. He wasn’t certain what to tell the Pyro about the traps. Or how to tell it, for that matter. As far as he knew, it hadn’t come back last night. 

He was turning the problem over in his mind when he walked into the locker room. All thoughts of Pyro flew from his head when he opened his locker. His gear was covered with a slimy, oily residue that refracted the colors of the rainbow when the light struck it. It reeked of fish. He reeled back, hand flying to his nose, choking back the urge to vomit. Swallowing hard, he turned to look at the other men in the room. Everyone was looking closely at the contents of their lockers. No heads turned to him as he gagged noisily. Taking a deep breath, Engie tried to calm down. 

“Who put sardine oil in my locker?” He addressed the room in general, knowing the futility of the inquiry. He wasn’t going to get an answer. Engie sighed, pulling his gear out and spreading it on the floor, pinching it between fingers whenever possible to avoid contaminating his fingers with the smell. His tools, his spare clothes, his shotgun… He inventoried everything as the Administrator announced the day’s battle. He looked up when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Medic was standing behind him, watching as he went through his things. 

“I’m sorry to disturb your cleaning spree, Engineer, but we do have a battle to fight today. It would be very helpful if you were to go to your post.”

Engie could have sworn that steam blew from his nose as he stood up. “Doc, look at this mess. Somebody poured fish oil in my locker. How the hell do you expect me to fight when everything I own smells like fish?” 

He looked from the rancid, reeking gear on the floor to Medic, eyes boring into the other man. “Don’t suppose you have any idea who would do a thing like this, do you?” He could feel a vein throbbing in his temple. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, the urge to punch something was overwhelming.

“I have no idea. However, there will be time to clean after the match. Would you please go to your post now?” Medic made a subtle gesture with his hand and Heavy stepped up beside him. 

“You heard Doktor. Go to Intel room. Clean there.” Heavy’s hands were loose at his sides, his posture non-threatening, but the threat was plain in the air. Engie took a deep breath and sighed. “Fine. I’ll deal with this mess later.” He gathered the essentials, leaving the rest of his gear spread on the floor. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he left the room. 

Mac had been thirteen when he decided that he didn’t like fish. Before then, he’d eaten it even though the taste and the smell caused a vague queasiness to lodge in the pit of his stomach. But the night his father came home with a catch of fresh trout, he’d taken it in his head that eating fish was something cats did, and he was not a cat. He’d sat at the dinner table, plate full of trout, peas and carrots, and bread still warm from the oven. He’d eaten the veggies and the bread, warm and crusty and slathered with butter and honey, then put down his fork. His father, a big burly Connagher male with all the attitude that entailed, had glanced over at him and continued eating. When his plate was clean, he’d looked back at his son, staring down at the aromatic trout slowly going cold on his plate. 

“You gonna eat that trout, son, right?” The words, drawled out in a slow Texas accent, didn’t sound dangerous. The look in his father’s eye, however, had been cold steel. 

“I don’t like fish, Dad.” Mac dropped his head and stared at the tablecloth. “I’m never eating fish again.” He knew there was gonna be trouble as soon as the words left his mouth, but he was thirteen damnit, old enough to decide what to eat and what not to eat. He looked back up at his father. The man had always scared him, but he was going to stand his ground this time.

Mac sighed as his father stood up, stretching out muscles grown thick with throwing hay bales onto wagons and wrestling cattle into doing his will. “Mac, you have two choices here. You can either eat what we give you, or you can fight me to see who’s the head of this house.” He put thickly calloused hands together and cracked his knuckles, an intimidating display of power.

Mac looked up at the man towering over him. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “I’ll fight.” 

“Then get on out to the barn. We’re not gonna do this in the house.” The elder Connagher watched with a smile curling the edge of his lip as his son straightened his back and walked outside in front of him. He’d grown up with a harsh man, and he didn’t think he was a harsh man himself, but he was not gonna stand for this rebellion. Still, he thought, the boy had courage. He had to know he was gonna lose this fight and yet he did not back down from it. 

Mac walked into the big open post barn and waited for his dad. He ran his toe through the loose straw covering the dirt floor, thinking hard. Part of him wanted to capitulate, to go inside and eat the damned fish and get it over with. The other part of him refused to back down. He curled his hands into fists and went over everything his dad had taught him about fighting. 

When the elder Connagher stepped into the barn, Mac felt confident that he could hold his own for at least a few minutes. After all, he was young and quick. He grimaced as his Dad stepped up to him, one of the ranch hands in tow. “Mac, I brought Jason here to watch the fight. He’ll make sure that neither of us does anything too dirty.” He stared down at the boy. “No eye gouging, no kicking, no throwing dirt. Sound good to you?” 

Mac nodded and reached out to shake the calloused hand that his dad held toward him. As soon as his hand clasped the bigger man’s, he knew that he’d made a mistake. His father gripped him with fingers like steel bands and pulled him straight into a waiting fist. Mac staggered at the blow to his stomach, throwing himself back from the fight. Fists up, he tried to regain his breath as the bigger man moved in. Mac darted to the side, landing a blow to his father’s kidneys that brought a faint grunt from the bigger man. He darted away again, using his speed and smaller size to his advantage. 

Turning feet shuffled up a cloud of dust as the two circled, searching for an opening. Mac kept moving, weaving and dodging blows, trying to wear the bigger man down. When he had the other man panting and wheezing, he quickly stepped in from the side, feeling confident that things were going his way.

He wasn’t prepared for the roundhouse blow to the side of his head. He staggered back and went down hard. Laying there in the straw, he breathed in, trying to steady himself. The world was spinning, the smells of dust and horse dung in his nostrils. His father stood back a bit, waiting for him to regain his equilibrium, breathing easily and slowly now. Mac realized that his carefully planned strategy had been used against him all along. Mac groaned and tried to push himself up. When he stood, shaky as a newborn colt, he balled his hands into fists again and swung at his dad. The blow was easily blocked and the fist to his face spread blooming darkness over his mind.

Mac woke up to his mother’s frantic voice. “James, you’ve killed him! How could you?”

His father’s gruff rumble undercut her. “Now, Raelynn, calm down. The boy’s not dead, look there, he just opened his eyes.”

Not wanting to disappoint his mom, Mac let his eyes flutter open a second time. He was in the house, laying on the sofa, and the rich tang of blood filled his throat. Mac reached out for the hand of the slender blur standing to his right. Grasping his mother’s fingers, he squeezed. She cried out in relief, arms flying around his shoulders and holding him so tightly he couldn’t breathe for a moment. 

He glanced over at his dad, standing at the foot of the couch like a gnarled old pine standing sentinel over him. Bright blood still covered his right fist. 

“How long was I out?” His voice was rough, and he could feel one of his teeth wriggle when he prodded it with his tongue. He sat up unsteadily, hand going to his face to assess the damage.

“About five minutes, son.” His father smiled at him. “Not long at all.” He reached out a big hand and took the younger man’s hand in his. “Up we go.” He pulled Mac to his feet. Glancing at his mom, Mac followed him to the dining room. His dad pointed at the table. “Sit down and eat your fish, boy. Tomorrow we’ll go get that nose looked at.” 

Mac sat and, taking a deep breath, began to eat. The fish was cold, the blood in his mouth flavored the slimy flakes of white flesh, lending an undercurrent of copper to the lemon and pepper his mom had used to flavor it. Never his favorite food, the sharp tang of fish and blood filling his mouth caused him to retch. His father busied himself nearby, glancing up every time he retched and gagged. Mac didn’t even bother to ask for a pass on the whole experience, he’d lost the fight, now it was time to pay the price. When the last bite of fish was choked down, he glanced at his father. 

The man looked at him proudly. “Good job, son.” He turned and walked away, leaving Mac to go sit beside his mom and watch tv. Ever since that day, the taste and smell of fish brought back that whole experience. Fish was definitely not his favorite food. 

Engie sat up his gear in the intel room, fighting back the rolling nausea his soiled equipment was causing. Everybody on base knew how he felt about fish. They might not know why, but they knew that he didn’t want anything to do with it, couldn’t stand the smell, the taste. It made this twice as humiliating. His fingers slipped on a grease covered wrench and he cursed. Picking the thing up, he threw it as hard as he could, straight at the wall. The wrench hit with a metallic clang, crumbling powder falling from the cinder block wall, and fell, skittering across the floor. Taking a deep breath, he tried to control himself. This was ridiculous. Letting himself get this upset over a prank. He leaned against the battered desk sitting in one corner and sighed. “It’s the principle of the thing.” He muttered out loud, a habit he’d picked up from being sequestered down here day after day. “It’s not the fish that bothers me…Well, that does bother me but it’s the mean-spirited assholism behind it that I can’t stand.” 

Looking around the room, he sighed. The smell was intense, and the warmer it got down here, the more the smell would grow, permeating every corner. With a final sigh, he started working on his sentry gun. After about a half hour of work, he stopped and wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead. The heat was increasing steadily. He walked over to the thermostat and checked it. The dial was set for 98 degrees. He quickly turned the dial back to the 75 it was supposed to be set at. Apparently, tampering with his tools wasn’t enough to satisfy his teammates. They were gonna try to cook him too. Engie turned and looked back at the room. Tools were spread across the floor, his toolbox was turned upside down to drain the residue out of it. “On the upside, I won’t have to oil anything for a while.” He chuckled to himself, finally beginning to see some small glint of humor in the situation. Stepping into the hallway to distance himself from the stench, he waited for the day to end.

He was carrying his tools back to his locker when Scout bumped into him in the hall. The boy jinked to the side, staying well out of arms reach, and whistled sharply. “Whew, man, you stink.” He broke into a run, putting space between himself and the older man. Engie shook his head and kept walking. That kid got weirder every day he thought to himself as he rounded the corner. He walked straight into Heavy’s waiting chest. The big man wrapped a hand around Engie’s wrist and grinned. “Doctor wants to talk to little Engineer.” He glanced from his hand to Engie’s face. “You will come? Or will Heavy make you come?” There was a hint of eagerness in the bigger man’s voice.

Engie tried to regain his balance without dropping his toolbox. “Hey there, big guy. I need to stow my gear and I’ll be right there.” He glanced down at the hand on his wrist, then back up at Heavy. “You need to let me go now.” He kept his voice calm and even, not wanting to antagonize the larger man. 

Heavy grinned, lips pulling back from yellowish slabs of teeth. “Scout will put away.” He glanced over Engie’s shoulder at the boy standing in the hallway and suddenly the full nature of his meeting with Scout minutes ago became clear. Engie sighed and sat his toolbox on the floor. “Fine. Lead on, big guy.” He glanced back at Scout over his shoulder as he was led away, eyes narrowing. “And I’d better not find anything out of place, Scout.”

Heavy led him down the hallways to the clinic. Pushing through the double doors, he smiled at Medic. “I bring Engineer.” He released Engie’s wrist, pushing him forward like a wayward child. Heavy stepped back three steps, positioning himself in front of the doors. Medic glanced up from the stack of papers on his desk. 

Engie looked over his shoulder, noting the now blocked doors, and then turned his face to Medic. “I take it this ain’t a social call, Doc.” He took a deep breath, putting some indignation into his voice. “If this is about the Pyro, I can tell you right now, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I ain’t the one helping it.” 

Medic stood, revealing the syringe gun in his hand. He pulled the trigger and a dart flew out, straight into Engie’s stomach. Engie gasped in surprise and grabbed the dart, pulling it out and dropping it to the floor. He looked up at Medic in shock, barely registering the spreading warmth radiating outward from the dart’s entrance wound. “Wasn’t fast enough,” he thought as he crumpled onto the floor.

Engie didn’t know how long he was out. When his eyes opened, he blinked fuzzily a time or two, then tried to wipe a hand across his mouth. His hand wouldn’t move. Engie looked down at his body. He was sitting in a heavy wooden chair, leaned back slightly, wrists and ankles restrained. He groaned. The slow pulse in his head was becoming a pounding pain. 

“Ah, you are awake.” Medic’s voice came from behind and slightly above Engie. He turned his head in that direction and rolled his eyes upward. Medic was standing there, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie loosened slightly. He looked like he was about to go out and play a round of golf, Engie thought to himself. Relaxed, calm, a half smile on his thin lips. 

“It is good to have you back, Engineer. We can now begin your treatment.” He held up a syringe and flicked it with his finger, loosening the air bubbles inside the glass tube. He squeezed gently, watching as a small stream of yellowish liquid shot out and splattered on Engie’s shirt front. 

Engie flinched. “Now wait a minute Doc. What treatment? There’s nothing wrong with me.” He rolled his eyes to the side, hoping against hope that there was some way out of this.

“Oh, but there is something wrong, mein Freund.” Medic’s smile was cruel. “You see, there is the matter of that back molar that we need to deal with.” 

“What the hell are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with my teeth!” Engie began to struggle against the restraints. “You let me go and we’ll forget about this.”

Medic placed a hand on Engie’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I cannot do that. You see, this molar, like a certain member of our team, needs to be extracted.” He slid a tourniquet around Engie’s upper arm and, finding a vein almost immediately, slid the needle in. 

Engie watched with growing horror as Medic pulled back on the syringe, allowing a small amount of blood to tinge the medication, then pressed the needle forward. Engie groaned at the fire that seemed to spread through his veins. He could trace the path of the medication by the glowing coal spreading itself through his circulatory system. 

Medic smiled from above him. “I was at a loss as to how to treat you, and then I remembered succinylcholine.” He smiled. “It is a paralytic agent, a neuromuscular blocker to be specific. It will prevent you from moving during the extraction, however it will allow you to be awake and aware the entire time.” Medic’s smile broadened. “And then, perhaps, you will be more willing to discuss the Pyro with me. You see, there were two bowls in your sink last night. I do not think that you are a man who leaves dirty dishes sitting about. Therefore, I must assume that you have been hiding someone.” He shrugged. “And if I am wrong, you will not have to worry about that molar until the next time you go through respawn.”

Medic watched the growing horror in Engie’s eyes. “You understand now, Engineer, why this molar must go?” 

Engie tried to struggle, but his arms and legs would not respond to his commands. Medic’s smile brightened and he reached for an odd-looking clamp laying on his instrument tray. “I have not worked with this drug in a very long time. With luck, I will have gotten the dosage right and it will only paralyze your voluntary muscle control preventing you from struggling.” He placed the clamp over Engie’s teeth and began to twist a small screw on the side. 

Engie gasped for air as his mouth was pried wider and wider. He wanted to scream, the pain in the hinge where his lower jaw was attached to the upper was excruciating. He could feel it creaking as Medic continued his twisting of the clamp. 

“Of course, if I have miscalculated the dosage, your involuntary muscle control will be paralyzed also. Your lungs will cease to draw breath, your heart will cease beating.” He shrugged. “You will slowly suffocate as your body shuts down around your oh so very aware mind. That would be terrible, I’m sure.” 

Medic, clamp in place, reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch. Flipping open the silver cover, he stood for a moment, watching the secondhand sweep around the dial. “Ah, yes. I have calculated correctly. Your respirations remain steady, Engineer. This is good, ja?” He stroked a hand along Engie’s cheek, the touch lingering a bit too long. “I’m certain Heavy would be very annoyed if he’d had to go to respawn and recollect you.”

He picked up two more tools, holding them for Engineer to see. A small hammer and what looked like a chisel. “First, we must loosen the tooth in it’s socket. That will make the procedure much simpler.” He placed the tip of the chisel against Engie’s tooth and began to tap it with the hammer. Pain shot through Engie’s mouth. He tried to scream but no sound would come out. He tried to twist away, but his body would not move. Engie began to panic as he realized just how helpless he was. Medic began to pound harder, the jarring strikes seeming to ricochet through Engie’s tooth, into his jawbone and straight to his throbbing head. 

Medic smiled calmly down at him. “Bedside manner is one of the things they teach medical students now. It was not so when I was in college.” He smiled briefly in remembrance. “When I was in school, the practice of medicine was purer. None of this ‘Do you consent,’ or ‘Will you allow,’ that you see now. When I was in school, we were taught to move in, do the job, and heal the patient whether the patient wanted to be healed or no.” He lay down the hammer and chisel and picked up a pair of pliers.

“My God,” Engie thought, “The man has completely lost it. This is insane!” The coppery tang of blood was flooding Engie’s mouth and trickling down his throat. Medic reached into Engie’s mouth with the pliers. As they wrapped around the molar, Medic began to twist his wrist. The pain was incredible, exploding through Engie’s body like one of Demo’s stickies. And still, seeming to ignore the pain he was causing, Medic droned on about his student days. In the silence between Medic’s words, Engie could hear the grating sound of his tooth moving in the socket.

Medic smiled down at him. “Sometimes my patients do not want to be healed.” His wrist stilled. “Do you want to be healed, Engineer?” Suddenly he laughed, the sound bright and tinkling in the room. “Ach, how silly of me. Of course, you cannot answer, can you? You are paralyzed.” Quickly, he jerked his wrist, causing the pliers to fly upward, striking the tooth above the one he was working on. Pulling them from Engie’s mouth, he held up a blood covered tooth, bits of pink tissue still clinging to the root. “There it is, Engineer.” He brought it closer to his eyes, examining it closely. “Oh.” His voice was disappointed. “The roots are intact. This means we will not have to surgically extract the remaining shards of root. He dropped the tooth into a steel bowl with a faint ping. “I shall clean this up for you, and you may keep it.” He rounded on Engie, his face suddenly inches from Engie’s face. “Perhaps it will remind you of what happens when you keep secrets from me.” His lip lifted in a snarl. “I will find that Pyro, and I will cure it’s particular cancer. Keep that in mind.”

Straightening, he gazed down at Engie as though the moment had never happened. “The paralysis should wear off within the hour. I will monitor you until then.” 

Engie could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks in hot trails. Apparently, tears were an involuntary response, he thought inanely to himself. He tried to flinch when Medic held one of those big hands, still coated in rubber and his blood, to his cheek and flicked the spot where his tooth had been. Sharp ribbons of pain unspooled from his jaw, overlaying the dull throb already there. “Still paralyzed, I see.” Medic nodded to himself, then flicked his jaw once more. Grabbing a folder from the table, he sat down beside Engie and began to flip through it. “Oh.” Medic’s voice was disappointed. “It says here that you no longer have an appendix. That’s a shame.” Engie closed his eyes and prayed that Medic didn’t find anything else he could remove.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyro takes offense at Medic's dentistry and makes things infinitely worse in the name of vengeance. There is a very enlightening conversation with Spy. Medic finally gets what he wants.

Engie woke up lying in his bed above the shop, unsure how he’d gotten there. Yesterday seemed dreamlike, but when he touched his finger to his jaw, he could feel the pain and swelling from Medic’s ‘extraction.’ Engie frowned, wondering if it would do any good to call the Administrator and let her know that Medic was physically torturing teammates. He groaned and rolled over, tossing his blankets aside. Most likely, there was documentation in his medical file about a bad tooth by this point. Calling would only antagonize the situation. Engie explored his empty socket with his tongue, promising himself that, one day, there would be a reckoning. 

Sitting up slowly, he peered over the edge of the loft into the shop. Nothing looked out of place, if Medic or Heavy or, God forbid, Spy, had searched the place, they’d left no obvious traces behind. No sign of the Pyro either. Engie scratched at his buzz cut scalp, wondering where the poor bugger was. He hadn’t seen it since the day he’d touched it. He could only hope that it was staying well away from the base and the traps that Sniper had set for it. 

With a sigh, Engie went down the stairs and to the small refrigerator. He opened the door and peered inside, a smile curving up the corners of his lips when he found the small sprig of honeysuckle laying on the butter bowl. Taking it out, Engie placed it in a tiny jar filled with water and sat it on his countertop. He dug out the milk, frowning at the container. He could have sworn he had a full bottle yesterday and today it was nearly empty. “At least you ain’t going hungry.” He spoke into the silence, liking the way his voice filled it. 

After a quick breakfast of oatmeal and beer, he gathered up his gear and headed for the locker room. He arrived, bracing himself for the jeers and sidelong looks, only to find the room empty. Sitting down his bag, he frowned at the empty space. The room was always crammed with people by this time of morning. There should be the hum of conversation, the banging and clanging of men pulling gear out of metal lockers and checking it. But there was nothing. Not even an echo of his team in the silent room. Only the faint lingering odor of fish permeating the air. Engie opened the door that led to the base’s living quarters and stuck his head inside. Silence. 

Cautiously, he stepped into the hallway and walked toward the rec room. Empty. The kitchen was filled with the usual morning clutter. Then the smell hit him, a disgusting mixture of blood and bile filtering into his nose and making his eyes water. Engie stepped into the dining room. There were bowls of oatmeal sitting on the table, spoons still in some of them. Several had been tipped over, spilling the congealing contents to mix with the blood and vomit splattered across the table and floor. When he walked closer, he could see pools of clotting maroon everywhere. The room smelled like a slaughterhouse. Engie stepped back into the hallway, drawing his pistol and holding it in an unsteady hand. 

He was turning in a circle, eyes wide, when he heard angry voices echoing up the corridor from the respawn room. Taking a deep breath, Engie started toward them. Halfway there, he met his team heading for the locker room. When they saw him, everyone froze in place. Engie looked down at the gun in his hand and sheepishly put it back in the holster. Scout stalked up to him, legs stiff with anger. 

“You!” He shouted. “This is your fault, you asshole!” His finger poked into Engie’s chest and Engie had to resist the urge to reach up and snap the thin, tape wrapped digit. “You and that fucking Pyro!” Scout started to say more but Medic pushed the younger man aside. 

“Control yourself, Junge.” He snarled. “Or I will do it for you.” He glared at Engie, blue eyes glacial. 

Engie held his hands out, palms up to show he was unarmed. “Everybody just calm down a minute now. Could someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” He looked from man to man, some glaring at him, some looking away in anger or disgust. 

“You know what is going on, Engineer.” Medic drew himself up taller. “You need to control your pet.” His lips curled up in a sneer. “Don’t try to deny it, we all know that you are friendly with the Pyro. And now, that thing has done this! And of all times, just before a battle. It wants us to lose today.” 

Engie shook his head, bewildered. “I woke up, ate breakfast and went to the locker room. Nobody was there so I went looking. I found the dining room a mess, and then I heard you all. That’s all I know, Doc.”

Medic snarled and kicked the wall, cursing in German. “Your verdammt Pyro has poisoned us. Rat poison in the oatmeal, Herr Engineer.” He cursed again. “Ground into a powder and then Demo cooked breakfast this morning and we all have been killed.” He leaned closer to Engie, eyes narrowed to slits. “Do you have any idea how much rat poison hurts?” Turning his back on the Engineer he looked over the rest of the team. “It is not a comfortable way to die, is it?” 

There were muttered curses from the group, and they brushed past Engie, knocking into him in the narrow hallway, jostling him from side to side. With a muttered curse, Engie followed them back to the locker room just as the Administrator called the start of the day’s battle.

He made it to the intel room before the shock of the situation wore off and he began to chuckle. Damn little Pyro, he thought to himself. Austin did say to be careful about pissing it off. He vaguely wondered if Medic had bitten off more than he could chew this time. He shrugged his shoulders and started sitting up his gear. 

When evening came, he emerged from the basement like a mole poking its head above ground when it can smell a cat. He knew there was gonna be hell to pay for the Pyro’s actions. He slipped into the locker room after everyone else was gone and began stowing his gear. He was nearly finished when a hand fell on his shoulder. Engie turned with a muffled curse, fist doubled up to defend himself. 

“Please, Engineer. No hitting.” Spy watched warily as Engie slowly lowered his fist. “I would like to speak with you.” He glanced around, then tilted his head in the direction of the door. Engie nodded once and started walking outside as Spy cloaked.

When they were just outside the shop door, Engie sat down in his lounger, looking away from the base. “Pardon me if I don’t invite you inside, Spy, but following some of the recent events on this base, I don’t trust you.” He glanced to the cloaked form beside him. “Now, you were wanting to speak to me?”

“I know about yesterday’s bit of unauthorized dentistry.” 

Engie nodded. “Okay. Not sure why you wanna talk to me about that but go on.” He shifted uneasily in his chair as, unbidden, his tongue went to the hole in his jaw. Damn, he thought, now I’m gonna be poking at it all evening.

“It would seem that your pyro took offense to Medic’s technique.” The sound of cloth rubbing against cloth indicated the Spy’s nervous shifting. “I want to make certain that you know that I had nothing to do with the tooth. Rumor has it that the Connagher family is favored by the Administrator to some extent. I do not wish to be unemployed because of Medic’s vendetta.”

Engie breathed in deeply, then out again through his nose. “You didn’t try to stop it, now did you?”

Once again, the sound of cloth moving against cloth. “You are right. I did nothing to prevent it.” The man’s voice softened with regret. “Just as none of us did anything to prevent the abuse of Scout, or the torture that Sniper went through when he first came here.” There was a deep sigh from the seemingly empty air. “And even now, I speak to my teammate while cloaked, to prevent anyone from knowing that I am speaking to you. I do not want this, Engineer. I have put in a request for a transfer.” The stub of a cigarette butt flickered into existence and landed on the ground several feet away. “I thought that you should know.”

Engie looked to the empty air beside him, surprise and dismay written plainly on his features. Spy had been here when Engie came to this team. He hadn’t thought that he would miss the sarcastic dandy, but the man’s news only served to let him know how badly things were falling apart. Engie chose his words carefully. “That’s a shame, Spy. At this rate, we won’t have a team left before long.” 

Spy laughed quietly. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we don’t have a team now. We have a collection of children frightened of the monster lurking behind the Medigun.” Another deep sigh. “I thought it only fair to tell you this, and to warn you that, until my transfer comes through, I will continue to do as the good doctor bids me. Also, I apologize for the fish. Please forgive me. Good day, Engineer.”

Engie sat quietly in his chair as footprints sounded softly, walking away from him. He leaned his head back, lost in thought. Of all the things he’d been expecting, Spy leaving was at the bottom of the list. Maybe the man did have some redeeming qualities about him. Standing up, he went into the shop to fix dinner. 

When he walked in the door, he heard a faint scrabbling at the back of the shop. Engie sighed and opened a can of soup. “You know, I can hear you, little bit.” He poured the soup into a pan and sat it on the burner. “What you did this morning was wrong. Now, I know that you had good intentions, but still, you killed off the whole team.” He got two bowls out of the dish drainer and sat them on the counter. “And now, we’re gonna be in for a real hard time from Medic. You understand, right?” He stirred the soup, listening, but there was no reply. Engie sighed and poured the soup into two bowls, splitting it evenly. He carried one to the back of the shop, looking around for the Pyro but not seeing it. He sat the bowl on the ground and walked to his chair, where his bowl waited. Sinking into the chair, Engie began to eat. 

After a quick dinner of soup and crackers, Engie sat his dirty bowl in the sink, resisting the urge to wash it. He picked up a wrench and began working with the sentries, calibrating them to maximum efficiency. Engie was nearly finished with the first one when he heard the shop’s door open. His head swung around, staring at the men standing in the doorway. He stood, wrench clenched tightly in his hand.

“What do you want, Doc?” He let his gaze linger on the man, then his eyes slid over Heavy and Scout, flanking him. “I know this isn’t a social call. Not after yesterday.” He took a step forward, chest puffing out a bit, ready for a fight. Briefly, he noted the vague outline of Spy, slinking away from the door, stuffing a set of lockpicks back into his suit jacket. He sighed. “So that’s how you managed to get me back here the other night. I should have guessed.”

Medic stepped forward, jackbooted feet clicking on the wooden floorboards. “Hello Engineer.” He allowed his eyes to roam the shop, then smirked, staring pointedly at the bowl of soup sitting on the floor. “I see you have a visitor?” Sarcasm laced his voice. “Or have you taken to eating on the floor like an animal?” He shrugged and took another step into the room as Engie silently cursed the bowl’s presence. 

“I reckon that where I eat ain’t none of your business, since you’re the one won’t let me eat in the dining room with everybody else.” He clenched the wrench tighter. “You mind getting down to it? Why are you here?”

Medic’s smile was sickly. “Very well. I am here to bring you in to my clinic for your next ‘examination.’ After all, the first one produced such interesting results.” 

Engie kept his eyes on the man in front of him, noting with his peripheral vision that Scout and Heavy were fanning out to either side, attempting to flank him. Slowly, he backed up, wanting his back to a wall. He was prepared when the two lunged for him, and he swung the wrench without restraint. 

The heavy tool caught Scout on the shoulder, causing the younger man to yelp in pain, but a stern look from Medic sent him back into the fray. Heavy was taking the brunt of Engie’s blows, blocking them with his forearms, seemingly without feeling the heavy metal crashing into bone. Engie fought hard, fear curling and twisting in his belly. He’d always avoided Medic’s wrath, but he’d seen the aftereffects on other teammates. 

Heavy managed to grab the wrench in his massive fist and Engie grunted as the other fist drove into his stomach, leaving him doubled over and retching. He tried to straighten, but Scout jumped on his back, the weight of the boy driving him to his knees. Engie managed to catch himself with his hands, but a kick from Heavy sent him crashing the rest of the way down, Scout still holding him firmly around the chest. 

Heavy drew back his booted foot, aiming for Engie’s head, but a word from Medic stopped him. “Wait.” Medic strode forward, fussing momentarily with the cuff of his shirt. “Not just yet, Heavy.” He turned and looked around the shop. “I know the Pyro is here. Sniper has seen the footprints leading to the back of your shop, and the soup you have left for it would indicate that I’ve interrupted feeding time.” He smiled maliciously, raising the volume of his voice. 

“Little Pyro, if you do not come to me now, I am going to take the Engineer back to my clinic. I am going to restrain him on a table and perform a surgery on him. I will do this without anesthesia, without analgesics.” His voice lowered a bit. “Imagine his pain as I cut into him, my scalpel slicing through fat and muscle, seeking those soft and tender internal organs.” Medic glanced over his shoulder at Engie, noting the effect his words were having on the other man. “Imagine the pain of having only one lung, being unable to draw a full breath, the agony of an iron spike left in the chest, positioned so that every heartbeat causes a prickle of agony, knowing that the moment the spike slips, death will come.” 

His voice had lowered, the timbre deepening, the voice of a man describing his favorite sex act. “Imagine if you will, all the harm that I can cause to your dear, dear Engineer as he lies restrained, completely at my mercy.”

Engie, laying at his feet, shuddered. He knew the threats weren’t idle, but had no hope for rescue. He steeled himself for a very long night, hoping that he could at least keep the screaming to a minimum. He twitched, eyes going to his shotgun leaning against the counter, wondering if he could reach it before Medic took him. His muscles tensed, getting ready to lunge for the gun when there was a faint noise at the back of the shop. All heads turned in that direction. 

Slowly, the Pyro emerged from the pile of scrap at the back of the shop. It kept it’s eyes on Medic, shoulders hunching forward as it pointed to Engie, then to the door. It said something, words muffled by the mask, but Medic smiled. 

“Let me guess, you would like to know if I would consider an exchange?” 

The Pyro nodded. 

Medic’s smile widened and Engie groaned. “Pyro,” He tried to keep his voice steady. “Don’t do this. You can’t trust…” The words ended in a grunt of pain as Heavy’s boot flew into his ribcage. 

Medic looked back to the Pyro, then held out his hand. “Come here, Leuchtkäfer. If you come to me, willingly, I will allow the Engineer to remain here, unharmed.” 

The Pyro took another step forward, masked lenses going from Medic to Engineer, fear and doubt evident in the set of its shoulders, the way it held itself. Finally, it looked to Medic and held up its hand, pinky finger jutting out. 

Medic recognized the gesture from a long-ago childhood. “Yes, I promise, Leuchtkäfer. I will not harm him, nor will I allow him to be harmed, as long as you remain by my side and do as I say.” The hand he was holding toward Pyro did not waver. “Come to me now, you are testing my patience.” 

Pyro looked at Engie one final time, then, booted feet scuffing softly on the hard floor, walked to Medic and slipped its gloved hand into his. It whimpered, a fearful sound, as Medic’s hand closed around its fingers, squeezing them lightly. Still, when Medic pulled it forward, it followed, neck craning to keep its eyes on Engie. 

Medic gestured to the others and Heavy and Scout fell in place around the two. Medic started for the door, leaving Engie laying on the floor. He watched as the small group walked outside, the closing door hiding the tiny figure surrounded by monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of trivia, one of the main ingredients in rat poison is warfarin, a blood thinner. When taken in large amounts, it causes internal bleeding and hemorrhage.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyro, in the none too gentle hands of the enemy, gains yet more reasons to hate Medic, but comes to a better understanding of Scout's position in this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thank you to Distasty for reading over this and keeping me on the right track. You have no idea how much I appreciate it, my friend. So, if you guys have seen the newly edited tags, you will notice that there is a huge reveal this chapter. Some of you will love it, some will hate it... Let me know what you think, k? I do value comments!

The walk back to the base was surreal. Pyro felt like a small child again, being led by the hand. Masked eyes took in the men surrounding Pyro, even Scout, the smallest of them, towered like a giant. The doors loomed large in the darkness, gaping like a cave mouth. Pyro balked, not wanting to enter. Medic turned toward Pyro and tugged none too gently at the hand he still grasped in his. 

“Come now, you do not want your friend to suffer, do you?” His eyes were cold as ice as he tugged, causing one booted foot to stumble over the threshold. “I can still send Heavy and Scout back to the workshop to collect him, if you do not cooperate.” 

Pyro whimpered and followed him down the darkened hallway. The light coming from beneath the clinic doors flickered like firelight, but there was no comfort there. Pyro trembled slightly, knowing the world was going to become a much more painful place soon. As the doors swung open around them, Medic pulled Pyro into the center of the room and dropped the hand he’d been holding. 

Pyro looked around, uncertain, ready to bolt. This room looked odd; Pyro had never seen it in the light before, only clothed in the welcoming darkness. One wall was covered in closed cabinets from ceiling to floor, with counters placed against the other three walls. Everything was white, sterile and cold. Lingering odors of medicine and disinfectant filled the air. The smells brought back flashes of humid jungle air, the calls of strange birds and wounded men. Pyro started to back up, fear eating away at its mind. Escape was blocked by a huge chest pressed firmly to its back, giant arms going around it and holding it in place. Medic crossed his arms, a feeling of serenity filling him as he stared down at his prey. 

“You have led me a merry chase, haven’t you, Leuchtkäfer?” Medic leaned against a counter; eyes narrowed. “I am not a man to be toyed with and yet, somehow you have managed to make me look like a fool.” Medic’s smile was cruel. “I would hazard a guess that your mask and suit give you a feeling of security, don’t they?” He pushed himself away from the counter and stalked over to them. “Do you feel safe under all that rubber, mein freund?” He glanced over Pyro’s shoulder at Heavy. “Hold it still, bitte. I would look on the face of this creature.” 

Pyro cried out as Heavy’s arms tightened, causing ribs to creak and breath to be drawn in short gasps. It whipped its head from side to side as Medic reached out and hooked his fingers under the tight rubber edges of the mask, pulling upward swiftly. The mask came free quickly, leaving sweat dampened and matted blonde hair to cover the delicate skull. When Medic stepped back, mask dangling from his hand like a dead animal’s pelt, his eyes widened slightly in surprise. Suddenly, he burst out laughing.

Heavy, seeing the look on the Medic’s face, tilted his head to the side in order to see the Pyro’s face better. It took a moment to make sense of what he was seeing, from the angle he was at. His first impression was of scars, so many scars. Shell like ears and plump lips caused him to frown, still uncertain. Medic reached out and grasped the Pyro’s chin tightly, tilting the face from side to side, examining the scars closely. 

His fingers found the suit zipper and the Pyro began to struggle harder against Heavy’s grip but he simply squeezed tighter, moving first one arm and then the other from their positions over the struggling figure’s chest, allowing Medic to completely unzip the heavy, lined suit. Medic slid it over the narrow shoulders, his eyes going to Heavy’s, a smile breaking across his face. His hands came up to cup small breasts, causing Pyro to cringe back against Heavy’s chest. “Definitely female. This certainly explains why our little friend is so resistant to being controlled.” His lip curled in disdain. “Women never want to admit that they are in need of discipline and a strong hand.” He slid the suit off Pyro’s shoulders, working in tandem with the bigger man to get the suit from her without allowing her any true freedom of movement. 

Pushing the suit over her hips and down her legs was the work of a moment. Pyro stood exhausted and panting, Heavy’s fingers sinking into the meat of her upper arms as she stared at the floor, momentarily quiet. Medic stepped back to examine his catch. The most striking feature, at least to his eyes, were the scars. Not trauma scars, he decided, but decorative scars. They covered her face, whirling and spiraling across high cheek bones and down her neck, across the shoulders and arms, disappearing into the tank top and light cotton pants she was wearing. They covered every exposed inch of skin, branded in straight lines and whirls, small and large dots accenting the patterns. 

Medic touched the pattern going down one arm, tracing it with his fingers. It was raised slightly, faded to palest white against already pale skin. Ignoring her struggles, he grabbed her wrist and turned her arm over, even the underside of her arm was covered. The scars reminded him of the tribal scarifications one saw in National Geographic. He muttered to himself and lifted her arm, examining the patterns closer. He was unable to decide what they had been made with. Perhaps, he thought, a heated knife’s edge would explain the thinner lines, but the curves and spirals had to have been branded into the flesh. And the small flowers and stars that littered her exposed skin, those were brands also, weren’t they? 

He frowned, curious now. “Turn her around, Heavy. I wish to see how far these scars go.” When she’d been turned in Heavy’s big hands, he examined her shoulders, the scarring was there also. Lifting the hem of her shirt, he examined the trailing lines that covered her back, disappearing into the waistband of her pants. He muttered to himself and yanked her pants down, leaving her standing naked from the waist down, gooseflesh rising in the chill of the room. Medic grinned, fingers trailing her flanks and across her thighs, tracing patterns to their termination points just above her knees. 

Grabbing her pants, he pulled them back up, covering her. Heavy turned her to face Medic again and he stared pointedly into her face. “You have acted like an animal since you arrived on this base. You have refused to participate in the team’s actions, you have turned our tactics into travesties. You have hidden in the bushes, stolen food, and behaved no better than a feral dog. That is going to change now.” He walked over to a drawer and pulled it open. “I have bought you a gift, Kleiner hund. And you will wear it.” He pulled out a length of leather and brought it over, fitting it around her neck and buckling it in place. Gently, he pulled her hair free of the collar, causing her to shiver at his touch. He stepped back to look at her. “Much better.” 

He lifted a leash from the drawer and snapped it through the D ring on the collar. “You may release her, Heavy. She will not go anywhere now.” He smiled benevolently at the Pyro. “You will stay by my side, like a good dog. Otherwise, your friend will suffer. You understand this, yes?” He waited for her nod. “Good. The collar and leash are here to remind you of your place.” He tugged on the leash, overbalancing her and causing her to stumble forward. “Since you wish to act like an animal, I will treat you like one.”

Pyro looked up at the doctor, eyes narrowing, lips pulled back to expose her teeth. The look brought a grin to his face. “Go ahead, Leuchtkäfer. Glare all you wish; it does not matter. I have conquered you.” He reached out and patted her cheek. “You know as well as I that you will do nothing to risk the Engineer.” He tugged on the leash, dragging her to an exam table. “Hop up here, it is time for your examination. When I took this job, I did not know that my services as a Tierärztin would be needed.” He sighed. “It is all the same to me though.” He waited patiently as she climbed reluctantly onto the table.

He jerked the leash hard, forcing her flat onto her back. “Lay back, wilder Hund, I wish to look more closely at the marks you wear.” He ran a finger lightly over her scars, noting how she cringed away as he traced over them. He was fascinated. He had never seen such extensive scarring purposefully done. He looked at Pyro with curiosity. “Who scarred you like this?”

Snarling in reply, she placed an arm over her eyes, attempting to blot out the doctor and his poking, prodding fingers. It was a difficult task though, his light touches reminded her of insects crawling over her skin. Whenever she was finally able to forget where she was for a moment, his fingers would inevitably find a nerve nexus to dig into, sending pain shooting into whatever limb he chose. At last, he backed away for a moment. Pyro sat up on the table, arms curling around her knees, drawn into a small ball, watching him with wary eyes. He was digging through a cabinet, seeming to be choosing different medications and then rejecting them. She watched him sit three different vials back on their shelves, her lip curled in disgust. 

Medic, with his back still to her, sat down a fourth bottle. “Don’t worry, wilder Hund, I am not going to paralyze you like I did our dear Engineer.” He walked back to the table, the final bottle in his hand. He smiled cruelly. “I am going to euthanize you. I was simply choosing the drug that would cause the most pain. Potassium chloride.” He sat the small vial on the table near her. “It will make your muscles cramp and seize, including your heart. I’ve been told that it is agonizing.” Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a syringe and began to fill it from the small bottle. “Imagine having leg cramps, only in your entire body. And finally, you will feel your heart starting to cramp and seize. Eventually it will clench so hard that it will stop beating entirely. At that point, you will die.” 

He flicked the needle. “Wouldn’t want any air bubbles in there, would we?” Glancing back at Heavy, he spoke as casually as if he were commenting about the weather. “Restrain her, bitte. Although I do not mind if she struggles, I do not trust her to not make a mess for me to clean up later.”

Her muscles tensed as Heavy grabbed her arms. She tried to break away, throwing her body from side to side, snapping her teeth savagely but unable to connect. He pulled her struggling form back onto the table and lifted her, slamming her down onto the hard surface. Covering her body with his, he was able to pin her with his weight, holding her still while Medic fastened her in place.

When he’d secured the last of the thick leather restraints around both wrists and ankles, Medic stepped back and took a deep breath. The girl was cursing and snarling, snapping her teeth at Heavy ineffectively. Finally, he stepped in with a tourniquet, fastening it high on her arm. Finding the vein quickly, he slid the needle in with a practiced hand and pressed down on the plunger. Freezing at the first pinprick, Pyro watched as the faintly gold tinted liquid slipped into her vein. Briefly, she wondered if Engie’s canned soup and kindness was worth all this. 

When the cramps hit, Pyro took deep breaths, attempting to breath through the agony, determined not to scream. Medic watched her struggle, a slight smile curling the corners of his lips. “You may as well give in.” His hand rested lightly on her stomach, feeling the muscles contract and knot. “I know that the drug is working. I can see the sweat on your brow, the pain in your eyes. Scream for me, Leuchtkäfer. I want to hear your agony, want to know that you are feeling what I felt when I ate the warfarin. Come, girl,” he coaxed, “Scream for me.” 

Pyro tried to stay silent, but the spasms were coming harder and faster now, plunging through her muscles like dull knives. Her mouth filled with blood as her teeth clamped down on her tongue and finally, she screamed. She could not control her body, thrashing and moaning in the restraints as the pain crescendoed across her nerve endings. She gasped as an iron fist wrapped around her heart, squeezing. She did not see Medic’s hand drop below his waist, fondling himself as he watched her spasm and quake. She did not see anything, her eyelids were clenched so tightly, her mouth wide, the screams pouring from her in ribbons of bright pain. The hand around her heart squeezed a final time and the screaming stopped.

When Pyro opened her eyes, she was greeted by the familiar white walls of respawn. She took a deep breath, hand flying to her chest, patting it, searching for a wound, unable to believe that there was nothing. Satisfied, she slowly sat up and looked around. 

Scout lounged against the far wall, shoulders leaning against it, leg bent, and foot propped behind him. His eyes widened a bit as he watched her body reform. “I’ll be damned. A broad. And what a fucked-up face. Medic’s gotta love that.” He shook his head, not sure if he should pity her or be glad that Medic had a new toy.

When she saw him, he gave her a jaunty little two fingered salute. “Heya, Pyro. Medic sent me to fetch you.” He stepped toward her, reaching for her leash. 

Her face distorted by a warning growl, Pyro grabbed the swinging end of it and pulled it toward herself. Sliding off the table, she backed into a corner, eying the boy warily. 

Scout shook his head, his face pulling down into a worried frown. “Come on now, if he thinks I disobeyed a direct order, I’ll be waking up here next.” He glanced at her and then at the ground, his shoulders hunching slightly. “If I’m lucky.”

Pyro looked at him, puzzled. She tilted her head to indicate the table she’d woken up on, then made a questioning sign with her hand. 

“There’s always worse.” He shook his head. “I’ve been here for nearly a year. Trust me, you do not want to piss that man off.” 

Pyro looked at the boy, then down at the end of the leash, thinking hard. He didn’t seem like a dangerous killer. He seemed like a lost child. She studied him, the bent posture, the way his voice got higher when he was talking about Medic. She instinctively recognized all the signs. He was submissive to the man, and from the sound of things, not by his own choice. Pyro drew herself up, making herself look bigger. She dropped her voice to a low rumble and growled at him. The boy cringed slightly before remembering himself and drawing himself up straighter. Pyro felt a slow kinship growing in her chest. She had been in his position, knew what it was like to bow to someone when every instinct screamed to run. Relaxing her posture, she watched him carefully. He looked ready to piss himself.

Pyro picked up the end of the leash and studied it briefly, her mind flitting to Engie and his soup. She had to keep him safe. Slowly, she held the leash out to the boy. Scout stared at it for a moment before taking it in his hand. He studied her briefly, then looked at the ceiling. “I guess we’d better get back up there. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Pyro nodded once at him, then followed him out of the room. 

When the two walked into the clinic, Medic was sitting at his desk, writing in a journal. He continued to write as Scout led her in front of the desk. After a moment, he lay the pen down and looked up at them both. “Welcome back, Pyro. Did you enjoy your trip to respawn?” 

She kept her eyes on the floor, forcing herself into a deferential posture. She remained quiet, attempting to look meek. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do, as Medic stood, pushing his chair back with such force that it crashed into the wall. He strode around the desk, grabbing her chin in his hand and forcing her face up. “When I speak, you will answer me.” His fingers tightened, sinking into her flesh and squeezing. 

Her eyes rolled to Scout, standing beside her, his eyes straight ahead, carefully not looking at her. She tried to pull her face out of Medic’s hand, but he used his free hand to loop her leash close. “Do not pull away, Pyro. It is ill mannered.” He leaned closer; she could smell the coffee on his breath. “I am half tempted to send you through respawn again.” He drew in a calming breath through his nose. “I will not though, provided you can prove to me that you are not ill mannered.” His eyes slid to Scout. “Junge, show our new friend how one apologizes to me.” 

Scout looked at Medic, pleading written on his face. “Please, I don’t want…” His eyes slid to the side, glancing at Pyro, then back to Medic.

Medic frowned. “You don’t want to be punished also, do you?”

Scout took a deep breath, then dropped to his knees, his fingers going to the taller man’s zipper.

Pyro let her mind drift away, trying to ignore the wet sounds that followed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engie is shocked to realize that his Pyro is female. Will this change things for them? Pyro, in the hands of Medic, finally shows what she is capable of.

Engie staggered wearily into the locker room, rubbing at his eyes with one hand, the other carrying his bag. He looked up, shocked to see Pyro, suited in the usual red rubber, standing behind Medic. It didn’t look good, he thought to himself. The poor things shoulders were hunched together, its back rounded in a dejected way that oddly reminded him of Scout. The Pyro walked over to the bench Scout was sitting on and gingerly lowered itself to sit beside him. The two of them were mirror images of despondency, he thought to himself, opening his locker. 

Engie got out his gear, double checked that his weapons were loaded, then looked over at the Pyro again. Its smoked lenses were fixed on him, its gaze staring through him. Engie glanced over at Medic, then to the Pyro again. Taking a deep breath and steeling his courage, he walked over to it. “Hey little bit, how you doing?” 

Medic watched the exchange carefully. Pyro looked at the man in the white coat, then back to Engie and shrugged. Then it looked away, eyes trained on the wall. Medic sneered at Engie. “You’ve missed quite the exciting night, Engineer.” He chuckled, the sound low and evil. “Did you know that your friend is female?” His voice dripped with smugness, noting the surprise on Engie’s face. “She has been learning how to be well mannered and polite from Scout.” He glanced at the two dismissively, then looked back at Engie. “Isn’t that right, Scout?” 

The boy looked up at Medic, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be seen. “That’s right, boss.” 

Engie frowned. The boy’s usual chipper tone was missing, his voice sounded ancient and weary. Engie looked from Pyro to Scout then back again. His face drew down in a frown, and he started to say something, but Pyro reached up just then, one finger extended. He smiled and touched the tip of his finger to hers, remembering a similar touch in his workshop. Just then, Heavy came striding through the locker room, gun in hand, and deliberately stepped between him and the two on the bench. “Time to fight, little man.” Heavy glanced pointedly at the clock. “You get gear ready now.” 

Engie took the warning at face value and turned away. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know, but it was obvious that something was very, very wrong. With a sigh, he gathered up his gear and headed for the intel room. 

He had plenty of time to think while he was down there. Maybe too much time, he finally decided. His mind kept coming back to Medic’s statement that Pyro was female. He shook his head, chuckling softly. The man was trying so hard to mess with him. It couldn’t be female. He would know, wouldn’t he? Besides, not even the Administrator would let a woman fight, would she? He thought about Ms. Pauling and her job, then shook his head in confusion. Ms. Pauling was an exception, not the rule. He sighed, his mind turning the statement over and over, trying to figure out what Medic was up to. Surely to God, he wouldn’t lie about something like that. There was no point to it.

When he couldn’t deal with the quiet any longer, he worked his way out of the intel room and into the main base. Walking onto the battlements, he gazed out over the field, finding Heavy and Medic after a moment. There was his Pyro. He sighed, recognizing the bright glow of flames. It was staying right on Medic and Heavy, spy checking. As he watched, Medic seemed to be telling it something. His arms were waving about and he was pointing toward the BLU engineer’s nest. Engie moaned and covered his mouth with his hand, a muffled “Oh God, no” barely audible. He truly hoped that Medic was not telling the Pyro to do what he thought. Soon enough though, Pyro charged around the corner, flames flaring like a star on the field as it charged down the sentry gun. Engie groaned, watching its body jerk and flail as it was riddled by bullets. Heavy and Medic made use of the distraction to flank the gun, managing to take it out. 

Engie finally opened his eyes. The Pyro hadn’t been picked up by respawn yet, and as he watched, he saw its hand weakly lift and drop. Engie cursed. It, no she, he corrected himself, was still alive. Medic walked over to where the Pyro lay and kicked her, hard. Engie expected him to heal her but he turned and walked away, leaving her to bleed out into the dirt. Engie cursed louder, damning that man to hell with every breath in his body. He started running, off the battlements, determined to rescue the Pyro but just as he stepped off the wooden stairs and onto the field, the BLU Pyro came around the corner. Seeing its RED counterpart laying on the ground, it raised its fire axe and began to maul her. Engie stood and watched until respawn picked her up, tears in his eyes.

He couldn’t watch any more. Heading back to the safety of his sentry and his dispenser, he cursed. He cursed Medic, he cursed the war, he cursed the enemy Pyro. Most of all he cursed himself and his cowardice. He knew that he would not go against Medic’s wishes. The empty hole in his jaw where his tooth used to be was a powerful reminder of what happened when one went against Medic. Engie leaned his head on his dispenser and wished that he was anywhere but here. He thought about a transfer, and the longer he thought, the better the idea seemed. With a heavy heart, he looked around the room where he’d spent all his time for the past five years. There was nothing here for him. He didn’t know why he’d stayed this long, some misguided sense of team loyalty perhaps? Then Spy’s words came back to him and he knew the other man was correct. They didn’t have a team. 

His head came up when he heard the soft scuffing of shoes in the hallway. He picked up the shotgun laying near his hand and turned. When Scout stepped through the doorway, he cocked it, the loud click of metal on metal echoing through the small room. 

Scout stopped walking and smiled tentatively. “I guess I deserve that. I just came to deliver a message though.” He shuffled from foot to foot, looking ready to run at any moment. 

Engie took in the nervous movements of the boy’s thin body. “Well. Go ahead and say what you need to say, Scout.”

Scout looked down at the ground, one tennis shoe clad foot scuffing the ground. “Medic sent me to tell you to come back and eat with us tonight. He said it’s time for you to give up this,” Scout’s fingers went up, wiggling out air quotes, “Obstinacy.” Scout looked directly at Engie, eyes pleading. “Can I go now? Without getting shot?”

Engie nodded once, watching as the boy practically flew out the door. Whatever Medic had in mind for tonight was not going to be pleasant. He was so tempted to just go to his shop and stay there, but he knew an order when he heard it. Engie sighed and propped the gun back against the wall. 

Freshly showered and smelling of deodorant, Engie walked into the base and stood in the doorway of the dining room, watching the chaos that was dinner time. Medic and Pyro hadn’t shown up yet. Engie walked in and took his usual chair at the table, thinking about how odd it felt to sit there. It had been less than a week since he’d been exiled, but what a long week it had been. Engie glanced around, wondering whose turn it was to cook. 

The question was answered when the smell of meatloaf drifted to him. Soldier was the only one who cooked meatloaf like that. He smiled, remembering a time when the man would have asked him to make biscuits or cornbread to go with it. Engie heaved a deep sigh and looked around the table. Most of the team was there, but no one seemed interested in talking to him, or even talking, for that matter. Engie sat quietly, gaze fixed on his plate. When the steaming platters of meatloaf were brought in, he scooped some on his plate, then took the corn and mashed potatoes as well. He was determined to act normal, even if the others were studiously keeping their eyes away from him. Engie had a bite in his mouth when Medic strolled in, the Pyro three steps behind him, and all attempts at normalcy went out the window. Engie’s throat clenched in surprise and he spat a mouthful of mashed potatoes back onto his plate. He was not expecting any of this. Pyro was unmasked, wearing a tank top and what looked like plaid boxers, clothing chosen to reveal as much skin as possible. The black leather collar resting on her collarbones had a jingling tag hanging from it that glinted in the light. Her short blonde hair floating around her ears, grey eyes cast down, face flushed in embarrassment at being unmasked in front of so many people. But most shocking were the scars.

His eyes tried to take in the patterns covering her. The swirling mandalas, the flowers and stars and snowflakes interspersed, covering every square inch of her body. His eyes traveled from her face downward, tracing the patterns. Engie couldn’t help but stare. Suddenly, she looked up at him, eyes darkening at the look on his face. When she turned her head to look directly at him, he startled backwards slightly, she looked primitive and feral, wild and dangerous. He blushed suddenly, remembering the night she had shared his bed, the smell of honeysuckle and smoke that had lingered behind her.

Medic walked to his usual place at the head of the table and pointed to a chair beside him. The Pyro glanced at him, then at the chair and finally sat. It was just enough hesitation to let him know that she had considered disobeying and chose not to. Medic felt his brow furrow. There was nothing that he could call actual disobedience in her demeanor, but somehow the girl let him know that, at any moment, unwilling compliance could become willing rebellion. He watched as she filled her plate then turned to Scout sitting next to her. Tapping his fingers lightly to get his attention, she pointed to the saltshaker. Everyone else at the table was silent, not sure where to look. Between the shock of finally seeing the Pyro and their fear of Medic, the usually noisy room was still. 

Medic waited until everyone had filled their plates and then he stood, raising a hand to get the others attention. Seven pairs of eyes turned to him, Pyro curled an arm protectively around her plate and began to eat quickly. 

“As you can all see,” he began, “we have unveiled the secret of our Pyro. “It would seem that our Pyro is female. That would explain why certain members of the team,” his eyes cut to Engie, “have been hiding her.” Medic sighed. “I had thought that all of you understood, a team is like a family. When one of us has something, we all do. Engineer, however, chose not to share, chose not to let anyone know that there was a female teammate out of greed.”

Engie, whose face had been getting redder and redder as the cold rage of indignation swept through him, stood suddenly, his chair scooting back to bump into the wall with a loud crash. “Now wait just a damned minute there, Doc.” Engie’s hand fell to his side, regretting the lack of a pistol in the holster. “First of all, I was as surprised as anybody else to find out she was female. Second of all, she isn’t a stick of gum, or the last cigarette in the pack to be passed from person to person. I don’t know what you intend to do, and I don’t know if I want to know, but for the past five years, I’ve watched you strut around here like the biggest rooster in the yard, and I’m about done. I’ve had all I can stomach of your bullshit and head games. You think it’s funny to turn everybody against each other, and you think that you’re in charge of this team, but all you’ve done is give us a five- year losing streak. Hell, we don’t even function like a team anymore!” He glared across the table at Medic. “Ever since you came here, this base is a misery to work on.”

“That will be enough!” Medic, face plum colored by this point, screamed. “I have had enough of this disrespect. You will not speak to me like that! Heavy, shut him up.” Medic placed his hands on the table, watching as Heavy slowly rose from his half full plate, eyes on Engie. He started around the table, advancing slowly, cracking his knuckles as he came. 

Engie began to back away. All eyes were on the pair as they faced each other. Heavy drew back his fist, preparing to launch a devastating attack when Pyro, looking up from her plate, began to growl, the sound a harsh rumble emanating from low in her throat. Smashing the heavy porcelain plate onto the table, she grabbed a large shard. She was suddenly on top of the table, shard in hand, and launching herself at Heavy’s back. Her weight made him stagger forward and with a roar she embedded the shard in his throat. Her teeth sank deep into the top of his ear and Heavy roared in pain, throwing himself backward in an attempt to dislodge her. When that was not successful, he spun and backed into the wall, smashing her into it hard. Pyro grunted but did not let up on either his throat or his ear. Heavy began to bleed freely as she dug the glass shard in deeper. He sank to his knees by the time the severity of the situation had registered with the other mercenaries. Soldier and Demo ran forward, grabbing the girl and trying to pull her off the gigantic man. She clung tightly but came away finally, snarling at them all with bits of Heavy’s flesh hanging from her bloodied teeth. Medic stepped forward and cuffed her, hard, as Heavy clapped a hand to his neck, roaring in agony. 

The big man staggered to his feet, standing there, swaying as he looked down at his attacker. Engie stepped forward, placing himself between the two. “Now Heavy,” his hands were out in a placating gesture. “She was just trying to keep me safe. No need for all that,” he nodded his head at Heavy’s balled up fists, “now is there?” 

Heavy shoved Engie roughly, sending him stumbling across the room. Pyro braced herself, eyes darting wildly from side to side as the bigger man advanced on her. Just as he swung a roundhouse blow that would have killed her if it connected, she jerked away from the men holding her, dropping to her knees and rolling under the table. Heavy roared again, unable to speak in his rage. 

Grabbing the edge of the table, he flipped it over, flinging it halfway across the room. Startled men dodged and leapt to avoid it. Pyro looked up from where she was curled into a tight ball on the floor. He started toward her, managing two steps before sinking to his knees. The blood covering his neck and chest began to slow, weakness seeping into his limbs. Heavy uttered a curse in Russian then toppled forward, falling face first onto the floor. Slowly, the girl uncurled herself, wide eyes on the giant the entire time. She stood, brushed herself off and, bending over, picked up a large chunk of meatloaf. Looking first to Medic and then Engie, she shoved the entire thing in her mouth and began to chew. 

Every man in the room watched her shove the dirty chunk of meat into her bloody mouth, silent. Engie took a step forward, one hand held out toward her. “Little bit, you okay?” His words seemed to free the other mercs tongues. Chaotic noise erupted. 

Engie took another step forward and grasped her hand in his. She looked down at his hand on hers and turning her palm over, holding his hand tightly. Engie looked to where Medic stood, shock evident on his face. He glanced from Engie to her, then to the smear of blood left on the floor as respawn claimed Heavy’s corpse. 

“Well.” His voice was shaking. “That was barbaric.” His eyes fell on the girl again and he grinned. “She is magnificent.” 

Engie rolled his eyes as he led the girl from the room. She tugged back on his hand, bending and grabbing for a chunk of meatloaf.

Engie shook his head. “Come on now, little bit. We can’t eat food off the floor. Besides, there’s broken glass everywhere. Come on back to the shop and I’ll open a can of soup for you.”

The girl looked at him, then pointed to her food and blood smeared clothing. 

Engie managed to hide his surprise at the gesture. “And a bath.” Pyro meekly followed Engie out of the room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engie and Pyro share a moment, Pyro finds her voice and we learn a bit about her past. And then Medic has to go and mess it all up.

Engie sat in his chair, listening to the sound of the shower running. Pyro had been in there for at least 20 minutes and he was starting to worry. When they’d come back to the shop, he’d given her an old t shirt, covered in grease and oil stains, and the only pair of drawstring pants he owned. She’d disappeared behind the curtain and after a bit of bumping and banging, all had been quiet. Engie stood, unsure what to do. He’d just watched her bring Heavy down with a shard of glass and her teeth. He’d seen a lot in his time with Mann Co. but that had been disturbing. 

With a sigh of exasperation at himself for being freaked out by a girl, he walked over to the shower and leaned against the door frame. “Little bit?” No answer. “You okay in there?” He waited patiently for a moment, hearing no answer. What the hell was she doing, he wondered? Was she hurt? Gone? Strengthening his resolve, he spoke. “Little bit? I’m gonna come in and check on you.” With that warning, he slipped around the curtain. The small room was filled with steam, the sound of the water louder in here as it beat down on the shower floor. Grasping the curtain, he slid it aside. The girl was leaning in the corner, staring down at her clenched fist. Blood leaked slowly down her wrist, turning the water droplets pink. Engie frowned. “Little bit?” 

She looked up at him, grey eyes dark and hollow. Slowly, she held the fist out, opening it for him to look at. Her palm was slashed open from the shard of glass she’d used on Heavy, the bleeding slowing to a dribble. Engie reached around her and turned the water off, noting the redness of her skin where it had been beating down on her, scalding her. 

Taking her hand, he pulled her out of the shower stall, grabbing a towel to wrap around her. He folded a washcloth into her hand and curled her fingers over it. She kept them closed, absorbing the blood into the cloth. Engie tried not to stare at her, standing there wrapped in a white towel, looking down at the floor. At last, when she made no move to do it herself, he began to dry her off. She stood still, letting him do what he wished, lifting one foot and then the other as he applied pressure to them. When she was completely dry, he used a second towel to dry her hair, wrapping it over her head and scrubbing like his mom used to do when he was little. When he took the towel off her head, she looked to the side, catching her reflection in the mirror. She stared at it as though she’d never seen herself before. Then, her eyes shifted in the mirror. Engie noticed that she was not looking at herself, she was watching him.

Engie looked at her, silver blonde hair standing on end, towel wrapped around her tightly, face blank and emotionless and he sighed. He didn’t know if he could stand that blank stare much longer. It worried him. 

“Come on over here and sit down.” He indicated the toilet seat. Reaching into the cabinet, he pulled out his medical kit and gently removed the washcloth from her hand. She stared at his face the entire time he worked on the laceration, cleaning it and bandaging it. He was relieved that it didn’t seem to be as deep as he’d originally thought. He watched carefully as she curled and uncurled her fingers when asked to. “No tendon damage, and that’s a good thing. It should have stitches, but I doubt Medic’s in the mood right now.”

“I need to buy a brush.” He tousled her hair lightly. “Girls need brushes.” She sat, solemn eyed as he picked his comb up from the sink. Gently, he began to brush the knots out of her hair, being careful not to pull. When her hair was sleek and hanging around her face in wet strands, he cupped her cheek in his hand. “Pretty little bit.” He smiled as the corners of her lips turned up just a bit. “You ready to get some clothes on and eat?” She nodded and he handed the pile of clothing to her. “I’ll go put the soup on, k?” 

When Pyro walked out of the bathroom, wearing his clothes, he glanced up at her. “Chicken noodle, little bit. You okay with that?” At her nod, he smiled. “So, do you have a name? It seems wrong to just keep calling you little bit.”

She nodded. She hadn’t spoken to another person in so long that it felt wrong somehow. She wasn’t certain she even had a voice any longer. Slowly, she opened her mouth, curious to see what her own voice sounded like. “Jenny.” She was surprised to find it sounded normal; she’d been expecting the hoarse rasp of a raven’s caw. “I like ‘little bit’ better.” She glanced down at the floor, then back up at him. “I’m not much of a Jenny.” 

Engie looked up from the soup he was stirring. “So, you can talk. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s up with the, ummm…” He waved his hand vaguely around his face and neck. His mind was screaming at him to hurry and get her fed, then to hide them both. Medic would only wait so long before coming for them. But she was talking, and he didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to stop again. 

“The scars?” She shrugged, slowly edging closer to him. There was something comforting about this short man with his love of soup. “I’ve had them a really long time.”

“I’m McCormick.” He held his hand out to her. “Mac for short. So, tell me about your scars?”

She stared at his hand for a moment, then reached out and touched his hand, gradually sliding her palm against his and shaking with him. “My parents were hippies. They wanted to live off the grid.” She looked at him to see if he understood, and he nodded. “They moved to Oregon to a commune.” Her brow furrowed in thought. The talking was coming easier now, and she found that she wanted to tell him about herself. 

“I think I was 10.” She shrugged, finding the words flowing faster now as she became lost in the memories. “There were ten families. We moved so far back into the forest that it took days to get to us. Totally isolated.” She smiled, lost in memories. “We had cattle, sheep and pigs. We farmed and hunted, lived off the land.” She sighed. 

“Then, one winter, about 4 years after we moved up there, there was a flu bug. By that point there were 28 of us living in New Hope. Twenty- four died. I was one of the ones who didn’t.” She reached for the crackers and crumbled them into her soup, one handed, acting as though the memories did not affect her. “We were kids, trying to survive in the woods, afraid to let anyone know what had happened. Our parents had preached so much antigovernment stuff at us that we were afraid to let anyone know what happened. We had the winter supplies, but the boredom of being snowed in got to us.” She took a bite, swallowing loudly. “The biggest of us, Brandon, wanted to mark us all, show that we were all part of a tribe. I think he might have gone a little crazy that winter.” She smiled at Engie, but it was more of a grimace. “He cut the patterns into us then doused them with grain alcohol and set that on fire.” She glanced up from her soup, seeing the look of horror on his face. “It was effective. And no infections.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It was one of the many ways he kept us entertained.” She continued eating. “Where did you grow up?”

Engie stammered for a moment as he tried to formulate a reply. “Ummmm, little town in Texas, in the Hill Country.” He smiled. “We had a ranch, but things were pretty normal for me, growing up.” He glanced over at her, realizing what he’d just said. “No offense meant.”

Pyro nodded. “None taken, Mac.”

“How did you end up here?”

“When I was 17, some loggers found us and called the cops. They came out and collected us all, put us in foster care. Nobody wants to adopt a 17- year- old that was ‘raised by wolves.’ So, when I turned 18, I joined the military. I was a WAC in Nam, two tours.” She sighed, remembering the battles, the blood and conflict. “I trained female Vietnamese to fight most of the time.” She didn’t mention the times spent crawling through tunnels, fighting for survival in the dark, or the long jungle nights, brightened only by the light of her flamethrower, the screams of the dying drowning out the jungle noises. She took a deep breath and pushed the memories aside. “I was discharged three years ago. Ms. Pauling met me at the airport.”

He nodded. “This is pretty much my family business. We’ve all worked for Mann Co. for years now.” He tapped a finger on the table. “It gives me some protection from idiots like Medic, but not much.”

She nodded then glanced down at her bowl. “Okay, my question?” When he nodded, she looked him straight in the eye. “Why do you like soup so much?”

Engie turned bright pink, the blush travelling from his ears across his cheeks and down his neck. He looked down at the table and fiddled with his spoon for a moment. “I can’t cook.” His voice was so low she had to strain to hear it. 

He looked up in surprise when she choked on a laugh and within minutes, he was laughing also. They were still chortling when there was the loud crash of a booted foot on the wooden shop door. Engie sighed. “And it was shaping up to be such a nice evening, too.”

Pyro pushed back her chair and stood, glancing over at Engie. “You should go now. They’re here for me.”

Engie shrugged. “After this, Medic is gonna want me as bad as he wants you. I’ve gone against his world order and he can’t just let that slide.” He stood and picked up his shotgun, tossing it to her. “We should probably find cover.” He glanced up, then back toward the door. “I would suggest the loft, but we’d just be pinned up there.” 

“If I hold them off, can you call Ms. Pauling?” She hefted the shotgun. “I can give you time to get to your truck.” 

Engie shook his head. “What about you though? You can’t hold them off the whole time I’m gone!” 

Pyro shrugged. “Go, Mac. I’ll be fine.” She glanced at him, then back to the heavy wooden door that was shuddering under the repeated impacts. “You have to find a phone, Mac. Now!” 

He shook his head in protest. “I’m not leaving you. We go together or we don’t go, little bit. Now would you please come with me?” 

Pyro huffed in frustration just as the door jamb splintered. “Fine. We go out the back.” 

Engie turned toward the sheet of tin at the back of the shop. “I knew having a pyro door would come in handy.” He looked over in time to see Pyro roll her eyes and he grinned. Pushing the tin aside, he shoved through the tiny hole, turning around to take her hand. That was when the shop door splintered to pieces and Heavy burst through, Scout trailing in his wake. 

Engie had time to look back, taking in the sight of Pyro bracing the shotgun and firing. The blast caught Scout, knocking him back just as Heavy grabbed the gun and tore it from her grip. He threw it, one huge fist striking her in the stomach, knocking the air from her in a loud whoosh. Dragging the girl behind him, he started for the back of the shop.

Engie took a step back and gasped as something tightened around his ankle, jerking him to the side and then leaving him dangling upside down. Engie groaned as he swung back and forth, attempting to reach up to his ankle and loosen the rope holding him.

“That will be enough of that.” Medic’s voice was quiet in his ear and he didn’t even have time to defend himself from the needle that slipped into his neck. A cold stinging sensation began to work its way through his veins and the world darkened.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyro and Engineer, captive. Seperated. Aid from an unexpected quarter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not putting too much effort into this chapter, I am pretty sick and my doggo is sick as well... If you find any mistakes, just let me know and I'll try to fix them...Thank the diety of your choice for Distasty, who's aid has been invaluable in this endeavor.

When Engie woke up, the sound of loud retching registered in his ears. He turned his head to the side, his eyes opening a crack against the headache caused by whatever Medic had given him and tried to focus his blurry vision. He was sitting upright, which was a good thing, he supposed. The chair he was sitting in looked like an office chair without the wheels. The wood was heavy and well made, and his arms were bound to the arms with leather restraints. He rocked back and forth a bit, and the chair creaked with his movements but didn’t show any other signs of give. A low groan brought his attention to Pyro. 

Pyro was lying on her side near him, on the floor, arms curled around a basin. She was retching piteously, nothing coming up. She moaned and glanced up at him. “Ipecac.” The one-word explanation was all she could get out before dry heaving again. Engie winced in sympathy. He’d spent his fair share of nights drinking and knew that there were few things as painful or debilitating as the overwhelming need to vomit when there was nothing left to come out. Medic, he thought to himself, was a truly creative sadist. 

Pyro rolled her eyes up to look at him, abject misery in her expression. A tear streaked down her cheek and Engie wanted to reach out to wipe it away, but the restraints on his wrists would not allow it. “Aww, now, don’t cry, little bit. It’ll go away soon, and you’ll feel better. We’ll get out of this mess, I promise.” He sighed, knowing that was an empty promise, but hoping against hope that a miracle would occur. He let his head drop back onto his chest and stared at the floor, waiting for the headache and dizziness from his own drugging to wear off. 

Engie didn’t know how long he was out for, but when he woke again, it was to someone shaking his shoulder. He looked up into Medic’s face, the light reflecting off the man’s glasses in such a way that his eyes were invisible. Engie blinked up at him a few times, unsure how to react. At last he said “Doc. How goes?” 

Medic chuckled and pulled up a nearby stool, sitting on it and laying light fingers on Engie’s wrist, counting the beats of his heart. “I thought that you might not wake up without a trip through respawn.” He released his hold and grinned at Engie. “Your heart is stronger than I had anticipated. This is good. It means you will be able to withstand that much more punishment.” Medic leaned back and smiled. “You do understand that I must punish you for your impertinence in front of the others. I think I will cut that smart tongue from your mouth, Engineer.”

Engie glanced to the floor where the Pyro had been, his eyes widening in alarm. Fear for her pushed aside his horror at Medic’s plans for him. “Where is she?” His voice was strained with fear. “What the hell did you do with her, Doc?”

Medic smiled a benign smile. “Don’t worry, mein fruend. The Pyro is with Scout. When she stopped vomiting, I took the liberty of binding her hands and feet, then having her carried to his quarters.” The smile broadened, taking on a malignant caste. “Tonight the boy will become a man.”

Engie could feel the flush of anger sweeping through his body. “You didn’t.” He couldn’t speak beyond that, closing his eyes, trying to shut out Medic’s voice. In his mind, he kept seeing her, bound and helpless, alone with the Scout.

Medic nodded smugly. “Oh, but I did.” His smile grew even more. “You see, the thing that will hurt you the most is knowing that you are here, strapped into this chair, while she is there, at the tender mercies of a hormonal young boy who desperately wants to be a man.” He reached out and patted Engie’s hand. “A boy that I have trained to be a sadistic killer who delights in beating in heads with bats.” 

Engie began to struggle against his bonds, knowing that it would do no good but unable to stop. He was fighting the leather restraints so hard that the chair was rocking back and forth more and more. Medic sighed and scooted his chair back a bit. “If you do not stop, I will be forced to paralyze you again, Engineer. And then how will you protect the girl?” He watched as realization dawned on Engie’s face and he gradually stopped struggling. “You see, this way you will have an opportunity to save her. Paralyzed, you are both helpless.” 

Engie suddenly cleared his throat and spat, the phlegm landing on Medic’s cheek. Medic sighed and wiped it away, then wiped his hand clean on Engie’s pants. “Now, now, Liebe. That was ill mannered. I think that you should apologize.”

He glanced behind Engie and nodded slightly. Large hands wrapped around Engie’s throat, the pressure gradually increasing until Engie’s air was cut off. He struggled but there was no dislodging Heavy’s grip. He could feel his face suffusing with blood, his eyes bulging. Dark spots began to bloom in the corners of his vision. The pain in his chest as he struggled to suck in air was indescribable. 

Suddenly Medic signaled Heavy to stop, and the hands were gone. Sweet air flooded into his lungs and Engie sucked in huge whooping breaths. He glared at Medic, knowing the night was about to get much longer. 

Pyro looked at Scout, her eyes pleading as Heavy dropped her bound body onto his bed. Medic, standing beside the bigger man, looked to the boy and frowned. “You understand what you must do, Scout, yes?”

Scout nodded, not looking up. 

Medic glanced at her then turned his gaze back to Scout. “Tell me what you are going to do.”

Scout’s voice was small, shaky, the voice of a young boy lost and frightened. “You want me to rape her.” He didn’t look up. “You want me to do it as much as I can, and as rough as I can.”

Medic nodded. “Correct, Junge. That is not how I would describe your first time with a woman, but essentially, yes.” He smiled kindly at the boy. “You know that this is an honor, Scout. Of all the people I could have given her to, I chose you.” Suddenly his eyes hardened, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Do not disappoint me. You will not like what happens if you do.”

Scout nodded, eyes still on the floor. “Yes, Boss.”

Medic and Heavy turned and walked out, shutting the door firmly behind them. 

Scout turned away from her and went to the closet, getting a can of soda and walking over to the bed. He pulled up a chair and sat down, not looking at the girl laying there, hair a sweaty, tangled mess, reeking of vomit. 

“I don’t want to, you know.” His voice was quiet, reflective. He slid a fingernail under the tab on the can and opened it. The faint hiss of the carbonation filled the silence. “I know how it feels. It’s what they did to me when I first got here.” He glanced at the girl finally. “It hurts.” Thin shoulders moved in a shrug and he tapped his forehead. “It hurts in here,” the finger moved to his chest, tapping over his heart, “and in here.” 

He looked down at the floor, scraping the corner of his shoe against it repeatedly. “I’m gonna have to, or it’ll be me next, and it won’t save you.” He sighed. “And I guess better me than Heavy. That man don’t care how rough he is.” The corners of his lips turned up in a wry smile. “God knows, I’ve gone through respawn enough because of him.” 

Pyro turned her head to the side and looked at the boy. She hurt. Her ribs ached from heaving; her throat felt raw from stomach acid. Her head was pounding. Still, she tried to concentrate on what the boy was saying. 

He shook his head. “There’s no way out of here, Pyro. Not for me. Not for you either. Trust me, I’ve tried everything. You can’t run, they make Spy or Sniper track you down and bring you back. You can’t kill yourself, respawn just picks you back up. No way out.” His voice was bleak. “You want some advice? Just do what they want. Don’t fight, don’t talk back. Just give in. They don’t hurt you as much that way. It’s no fun, right?” He half chuckled. “And then they get tired of it after a while and start to leave you alone.”

Pyro lifted her head off the pillow and looked directly into his eyes. “Maybe I’m your way out.”

Scout’s eyes widened in surprise. “So, you talk, huh? Not that it matters much. He don’t like it when people talk too much.” Scout sighed. “If there was another way out, Pyro…” His voice trailed off.

“You act like you don’t have a choice, Scout.” 

Scout looked at her, eyes narrowing, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Yeah, and what the hell would you know about choices? Huh? You got no idea what it’s like.” He slammed his fist into his thigh, wincing at the pain then glancing at her, the rage seemingly gone again. He began to twist his fingers together, staring down at them, weaving them between each other. “I used to think it was my fault, you know. Something I did, or didn’t do, and then finally it came to me. People are just shitty. This situation is just shitty.”

Pyro stared at him; her gaze serious. She needed a way to distract him from this downward spiral he seemed to be in. Pyro said the first thing that popped into her head. “Wanna know what I used to do, Scout?”

He looked at her, surprised out of his reverie by the sudden topic change. “Um, okay?” His voice was uncertain. “What did you used to do?”

“Before I came here, I used to crawl down into tunnels that were just tall enough to stand in if you were lucky. At worse, they were maybe a foot and a half, two feet wide. And there wasn’t any light. If you used your flashlight, you let the enemy know you were there. So, you felt your way along. And down there, in the dark, blind as moles, if you ran into someone else, you killed them. Or you were killed.” She grinned, and he could see something in her eyes, a feral light that sometimes came into Soldiers when he was having a particularly bad day. “I was in those tunnels for over a year, Scout, getting more and more pissed off. And now I’m here. Untie me.” 

Scout found himself reaching for the restraints without thinking about it. He jerked his hands back suddenly, like he’d been burned. “Aw no, you ain’t gonna trick me into letting you go. Medic will kill me.” He leaned back in his chair and put his hands under his butt. “Not happening, lady.”

Pyro spoke again, a tone of command in her voice. “Let me go. He won’t know what happened. Hell, if I took out Heavy with a dinnerplate, do you really think Medic stands a chance against me? I will finish this, Scout. I’ve had enough.”

“What does it matter? He’ll just respawn.” His eyes widened suddenly. “Unless you’re talking something permanent?” 

She nodded. 

Scout leaned back in his chair further. “No. What if you don’t win? What happens to me then?” He shifted uneasily back and forth. “I get blamed, that’s what. And you know what happens when people get blamed for shit around here.”

Pyro dropped her voice, her tone rough. “You might be content to be Medic’s little fuckboy for the rest of your time here, but I’m not. One way or the other, Scout, he’s going to die. You can either help me or you can die with him. I don’t care.” She grunted, straining against the restraints. “But you need to make your mind up fast. I’m not in the mood to wait.” 

Scout was rocking back and forth in his chair now, lost in thought. She had a point, but he was so scared. He knew that he should just let her go. But if he did and she didn’t kill Medic, he’d be tortured for years. He groaned, going back and forth in his mind. Suddenly he straightened, decision made. Reaching for the restraints, he began to unbind her. Her breath whispered out of her; she’d been as tense as he was, unsure which side he would choose. At last the final restraint dropped from her and she sat up on the bed, rubbing the chafed skin of her wrists. 

“How many people on this base are like Medic?” 

Scout shook his head. “I don’t think anybody is like him. Even Heavy ain’t that bad when Medic’s not around.” He shrugged. “He has nightmares. Medic gives him these little pills that make them go away.” He shook his head. “One time, Heavy pissed Medic off and he wouldn’t give Heavy the pills. Heavy was all weird, sweating and shaking and puking in corners for about two days, then Medic gave the pills back to him. After that, he was fine again.”

Pyro nodded. She knew enough about addiction to recognize the symptoms of withdrawal when Scout described them to her. So, she thought, that explains his hold on the big guy. She stared at Scout, trying to decide how far to trust him. Finally, she took a deep breath and decided that she had no choice. It was trust him or die. “I need some clothes, Scout, and a knife. And I need you to get everybody off the base. This is between me and Medic.”

Scout shrugged. “I’ll try to get them to leave.” His smile was sickly. “In for a penny and all that crap, right?” He stood up and went to his dresser, pulling out a T shirt and a pair of jogging pants. “They’ll be a little long on you, but they have a drawstring.” He tossed the clothes to her, turning his back as she began to dress.

“I’ll get Engie and bring him to the garage. Try to have the truck running when we get there.”

Scout stopped digging through his drawers and turned to her. “I gotta ask you this. Why are you so fond of Engie? I mean, he’s a nice guy and all, but what did he ever do for you?”

The look in Pyro’s eyes softened. “He sang to me. He fed me when I was hungry. He shared his bed with me.” Scout’s eyes widened on that last part. “Not like that, Scout. He tried to give himself up to keep me safe. He took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself. That makes him mine to protect.” She reached out and laid her hand on his. “Just like you’re mine now.”

Scout frowned. “How so?”

“You shared what happened the other night with me. You held my hand when I needed it. You tried to take his attention off me. And now, you let me go.” 

Scout handed her a small hunting knife in a sheath and a belt. She belted it around her waist glanced at the clock. “Give me an hour, then leave without us.”

He frowned. “But what about you? Medic’s gonna kill you.”

She shook her head. “He’ll try.” Her grin was broad, with too many teeth. “But he won’t.”  
Scout took a deep breath and nodded, uncharacteristically silent. 

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, smiling as he blushed bright pink and covered the spot with his palm. “Now go. You have work to do.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyro, freed by Scout, rescues Engie and evacuates the base. Too bad things never go quite according to plan.

Pyro slipped out of Scout’s room, her glance darting up and down the corridor. She had explored a bit at night, while the rest of the mercs were sleeping, and the layout of this base was much like any other. Sleeping quarters upstairs, a communal shower and bathroom, then downstairs were the public living quarters. The kitchen, dining room, rec room, a small bathroom. Some storage closets filled with cleaning supplies. A walk-in freezer and pantry off the kitchen. Medic’s clinic and his private quarters adjoining the clinic. The locker room. The respawn room and a set of stairs leading down to the intel room and the basement. 

The basement was a warren of adjoining storage rooms, mostly empty and dust covered. Ghosting down the corridor, she listened carefully, slipping around corners and into small alcoves every time she paused. She was at the stairs now, crouching and listening, then moving down them steadily, not stopping at the bottom, but barreling around the corner ready to take down anyone she would meet. The corridor was empty. 

She didn’t trust Scout, even though he’d freed her. However, when she’d slipped out of his room, he’d been packing a small bag and getting ready to warn the others, just as she had asked. She was standing outside the clinic doors now and, pushing them open a crack, she peered inside. Engie was tied fast to a sturdy wooden chair in the center of the room, Medic and Heavy looming over him. Blood flowed steadily from his mouth, coating his lips and chin. His head hung forward, she could not tell if his eyes were open or closed. Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from the doors, looking in both directions to make certain she was alone. She needed a way to rescue Engie and get him to the truck where the others would hopefully be waiting. She frowned, deep in thought, the beginnings of a plan starting to take shape in her mind. 

That was when the screaming started on the other side of the thick double doors. Pyro flinched back as the raw, terrified sounds spiraled into the air. Jogging a bit further down the corridor, she found what she was looking for, a vent cover. Using the knife blade as a screwdriver, she popped it loose from the latches holding it in place and climbed inside. She had met quite a few people who were unable to stand tight spaces, but to her, they were comforting. Only two directions to worry about, she told herself, and if Scout was doing his job, it would be only one. Crawling carefully forward on hands and knees, she followed the curving path through the walls, peering through vent covers as she passed, until she found the room she was looking for. 

She popped the latches from this cover, holding onto it with one hand to keep it from clattering to the ground. Sitting it carefully on the floor, she slid out of the vent and into Medic’s private quarters. She had only been in here once before, and that night she’d tried her hardest to memorize the layout in an effort to distract herself from Medic’s idea of fun. She moved about the small space, confident in her earlier observations. 

When she’d been in here before, he’d laid a gun on the table, then had placed it inside a cupboard built into the wall. Taking a deep breath, hoping that he was not the type of man to booby trap things, she slowly pulled open the door now. Releasing her breath when she was not blow sky high, she looked at the contents. Her whispered “Yes!” was barely loud enough to disturb the floating dust motes as she inventoried the contents. Reaching inside, her fingers wrapped reverently around the huge bulk of Medic’s syringe gun. Checking it over carefully, she made sure the safety was off and that it was fully loaded. She’d followed Medic closely enough in battle to know that the darts would paralyze and wound, but not kill immediately. 

Moving quietly to the door, she grasped the knob in her hand and flung it outward, stepping through quickly to prevent it from closing on her again. Medic and Heavy were both turning away from Engie, the noise of her entrance from a room that was supposed to be empty surprising them into stunned inaction for a fraction of a second. That fraction of a second was all she needed. Her finger tightened on the trigger and darts arced across the room, loaded with a mixture of God knows what. The darts pierced the two men, and they crumpled. 

Running over to Engie, she checked him quickly. He was dazed, looking up at her with wide, confused eyes. Medic had drugged him if his fully dilated pupils were any indication. He opened his mouth to speak and she flinched. The inside of his mouth was coated with gore, his tongue a ragged stump flailing about like a wounded snake. He groaned out, the coppery stench of blood washing over her face and causing her nostrils to flare and her lips to wrinkle. He began to choke on the blood pooling from the ragged stump of his tongue. 

Pyro grasped his hand quickly then turned away from him, searching the two downed men. Neither had a gun. She found several knives, but nothing else. Shaking her head, she took the knives from them. Turning back to Engie, she found his eyes fixed on her. He was watching every move she made, blood gurgling in his throat. She walked back to him and knelt in front of him. Reaching up, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Mac?” She peered closely at his face. “Can you understand me?” Slowly he nodded. “Mac, I don’t know how to stop the bleeding. And even if I do, you won’t have a tongue until you go through respawn. Do you understand?” The fog of pain and drugs was slowly clearing from his eyes. He nodded again. 

“Mac, I don’t want to do this, but I need to.” 

He gurgled through the blood filling his broken mouth. “onnt meeekkk uuurrt.”

She nodded solemnly, clasping his hand briefly in hers. “I won’t. It’ll be quick, I promise.” 

Stepping behind him, she wrapped her hand around his forehead, pulling his head up and back. Quickly, she kissed him on the forehead and then slashed the knife in her right hand over his throat. She held him tightly while he twitched and bled out, then, when she was certain he was dead, she began riffling through drawers, looking for restraints. She found what she needed, nice thick leather, well-oiled and supple. Even as she held them in her hands, her mind shied away from the uses Medic had most likely put them to. She bound Medic and Heavy securely, then found a syringe and a vial of tranquilizer. She gave them each a dose and took off running for respawn. 

Engie was just appearing as she ran through the wide double doors. He groaned and looked up at her, reaching for her hand. He opened his mouth and wiggled his regrown tongue, then closed it and frowned. “Damn, that tooth didn’t come back.” 

Pyro pulled up on his hand, helping him to his feet. She shook her head. “You’re worried about the tooth?” She pressed against him as he wavered slightly on his feet, steadying him. Engie leaned heavily on her for a moment before straightening. “I need to get you out of here, Mac. Scout is…”

He cut her off, exploding as the pent up rage inside boiled over. “I’m gonna kill that little fucker, next time I see him.” He strode for the doors, legs growing steadier with each step, not even slowing for her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t try to talk me out of it, little bit. Medic told me what happened. I don’t know how you got away from him, but he’s dead!”

He was shouting by the time he slammed through the outer doors, ignoring Pyro as she trotted along beside him. At last she reached out and grabbed his forearm, fingers sinking deep into his flesh, spinning him around to face her. “You won’t touch that boy!” Her shout echoed in the empty corridor. “Stop being an asshole and slow down. He let me go, Mac. He’s the only reason I was able to get to you. He’s waiting in the garage for you with the rest of the team.”

Engie stopped walking. “He let you go? He didn’t touch you?” His face furrowed in confusion. 

She shrugged, glancing away from him for a moment. “He knows how it feels to be forced. He didn’t want to hurt me, and that’s why Medic was trying to make him. It’s not his fault. If there’s anyone to blame here, it’s Medic. Scout has been through enough, don’t you think?”

Engie sighed. “I knew something was up there. I should have paid more attention.” He stared down at the toes of his boots. “I should have done something. I fucked up real bad, little bit.”

Pyro shook her head. “Medic kept you isolated from the others. He kept you in the intel room, and he made sure that everyone was too frightened to talk about what he was doing to them. He’s the only one to blame here, Engie. Not you, not Scout, not even Heavy.” She paused, eying him. “Speaking of Heavy, can you help me get him to the truck?”

Engie frowned at her. “What? Why would you want to take him to the truck? And what are we all going to the truck for anyway?” He shook his head, feeling like he’d missed something important, but not sure what or when. Maybe the drugs were still lingering? 

“I need you to make that phone call, Engie, remember? To Ms. Pauling. And I need Heavy to go with you. I can’t keep an eye on Medic while you guys are still on the base.” She smiled. “I want to save what I can of this team. I sort of like you guys.” She kept her thoughts to herself, let Mac think that she was only going to guard Medic while he went for help. She knew that if he suspected what she really intended, he would never leave her alone here. And, God help her, she wanted some alone time with Medic. 

Engie sighed. “Sort of?” His eyebrow arched suspiciously, a half smile curving the corner of his lips. “Only sort of?” 

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, voice softer now. A pink blush spread over her cheeks. “I like some of you more than others. But I still need to get Heavy to the truck. Help me?” 

Engie nodded. He’d seen that look and it warmed him inside, making him consider the possibilities. “I’ll make you a deal. I help with Heavy, call Ms. Pauling, and then come straight back. I don’t like the thought of you being here alone with that man, even if he is knocked out.”

She nodded quickly, too quickly, Engie thought warily. The pair started toward the clinic. “It’s a deal.”

When they got to the clinic, it was short work to get Heavy’s unconscious body loaded onto a gurney and push him toward the garage. The rest of the team gathered close as they pushed it ahead of them through the double doors. Scout ran over to her, eying Engie and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “You okay?” He gestured to Heavy, knocked out on the gurney, with one hand. “What the hell are you doing with him?”

“Loading him into the truck. He needs to go with you.” She glanced up then and sighed when she saw the look on Scout’s face. “Look, he is not to blame for this either Scout. He’s an addict. You told me so yourself. Besides, he’s knocked out and tied up. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Scout frowned. “I don’t like this, Pyro. He’s a bastard and he’d be better off dead.” He sighed, thinking hard. “But I’ll help, I guess. If you’re sure that’s what you want.” Grabbing a corner of the blanket under the big man, he helped them to load Heavy into the bed of the truck. Comfort was not a worry, so it didn’t take long at all. The team all climbed into the bed of the truck with the unconscious Heavy and Engie got behind the wheel, starting the engine. 

He stared hard at her, foot holding down the brake pedal. “Don’t take any chances, little bit. I’ll be back soon, I promise.” She nodded and opened the huge roll up doors on the garage. “Just go make that phone call, Mac. I’ll be fine until you get back.” 

Engie drove into the darkness, down the dirt road leading away from the base. He passed through the main gates but turned left instead of right at the road leading to town. 

“What the hell, man?” Scout, in the passenger seat was reaching for the steering wheel. 

Engie knocked his hand away and shifted the truck into a higher gear, gaining speed on the gravel road. “BLU base is a lot closer. They have a phone we can use. Just be quiet and help me watch for fallen rocks.” The tight urgency in his voice caused Scout to bite back the protest he was about to voice and sit back in his seat. Silence filled the truck’s cab for a moment. Scout stared out the windshield at the tall cliff walls passing by on both sides of the truck.

“Man, they’ll kill us all.” Scout glanced over at Engie, who was biting his lip as he concentrated on steering the truck in the loose gravel. “Hey man!” Scout suddenly shouted, unable to contain his anxiety any longer. “Are you listening to me? They’ll kill us. BLU isn’t gonna let you just drop by and use the phone, man. Are you nuts?” Panic was making him louder and louder in the enclosed cab of the truck. 

Engie shook his head, then, without warning, his hand left the shifter and he struck the boy hard on the jaw. He glanced over again, taking his eyes off the road for a precious second, noting that Scout’s head was lolling limply on his neck and he was finally quiet. That had felt really good, he decided. He turned his eyes forward just in time to glimpse the boulder looming out of the darkness. It was huge and jagged, the broken detritus from an unstable rock ledge high above. Engie braked hard, ignoring the yells of protest and fear from the back of the truck. He swerved to the left, hoping to miss the boulder, but hit a loose scree of gravel, sending him into a fishtailing slide across the road. The cliff face of red rock loomed in his windshield. Engie swore that he could see every small crack and crevice in it right before the truck hit with a deafening boom. Engie’s head snapped forward, crashing into the windshield and causing a starburst of broken glass to tinkle down inside the truck’s cab. The sudden silence of the night was only broken by the faint tick tick of the cooling engine. 

BLU team, sitting in their base and watching tv or relaxing, heard the crash. Thinking that RED was getting creative and they were under attack, they grabbed whatever weapons were handy and ran outside to investigate. Spy, upon finding the crashed truck, immediately called for Medic. When the BLU doctor arrived, he took one look at the crashed truck, the bodies scattered around, the wounded RED team, and he began to triage victims. Scout, who had been wearing his seatbelt, was woozy and babbling about using the phone when Spy pulled him from the truck. He kept insisting they call for help, despite repeated assurances from the BLU Medic that he could handle their injuries. At last, Medic tranquilized him to keep him from screaming and wandering around when he was supposed to be sitting and resting. Just as his eyes rolled back in his head, he grabbed Spy’s hand. “Pyro’s with Medic.” He managed to gasp out before succumbing to sleep. 

Engie lay still on the ground, stretched out and bleeding copiously from his forehead. Spy, sitting beside him, applying pressure to the wound with a thick wad of gauze that Medic had given him, was thinking over their last conversation. It would seem that the Engineer had decided to take him up on the offer for help. He surveyed the carnage. It was a shame that he’d brought the entire team with him. Even more so that they had crashed and all been injured in one form or another. 

Lighting a cigarette one handed, Spy glanced over at their Heavy, who was moving unconscious or semiconscious people to wherever Medic directed him. He watched the slow rise and fall of Engineer’s chest, wondering what had driven them to such an act of desperation that they were all here. Spy sighed out a puff of smoke, watching as it drifted lazily away on the breeze. He felt that a trip to RED base might be in order as soon as his help was no longer required.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyro, alone on the base with Medic, seeks revenge. In a life or death struggle, who will be the victor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the moment we have all been waiting patiently for since this story was begun is upon us. A huge thank you to Distasty for everything and a huge thank you to everyone who has read this. I love the comments and the kudos, they make this entire process worthwhile!

Pyro was alone in the base. Other than the unconscious Medic, that is. She took a moment to appreciate the quiet, then began gathering things that might come in handy. First, a trip to Demo’s room, easily circumventing the booby traps set by a drunk man. She carefully placed the explosive parts of several different items into a pillowcase she liberated from Demo’s bed. Then, to Scout’s room, where his alarm clock disappeared into the same pillowcase. She grinned, checking out her haul and headed deep into the base. 

In the basement, there was a panel so well disguised that, unless you knew it was there, you would walk past it and never guess its existence. Pyro found the panel quickly; she’d seen a previous Engineer access it once on another base and had memorized its location. Setting the panel on the floor, she stared at the tangle of wires behind it. Slowly and carefully, she began tracing them. This was the heart of the base. She needed to stop the heart to remove the cancer from within. Breathing steadily, she pulled a bit of explosive from the pillowcase and began to shape a charge. Taking the clock apart with her knife blade, she rewired the timer in it and attached it to the charge, placing the entire bundle carefully on the panel. She set the timer for four minutes and ran. 

Tearing into the clinic, she glanced at her watch. Two minutes left. Medic was struggling frantically on the floor by now, trying to get out of his own restraints. She squatted on her heels beside him, watching as he barely slowed his struggles. As soon as he saw her, he began to scream invectives. He was pissed.

Pyro rocked back on her heels, watching him from her crouch. The smart thing to do would be to drag a knife across his throat and end this. Then Engie’s bloodied face flashed into her mind and she shook her head. Nothing would be easy here. She wanted vengeance. 

“I will punish you for this, wilder Hund.” Spittle frothed at the corners of his mouth. “Release me now, and I will not make it too terrible.” His struggles reached a fever pitch as he tried to get to her. 

“You promise?” Her voice was small, a tremble in it. She hoped that she was not overdoing the fear, but Medic seemed to fall for it. He stilled.

“I promise.” He held his bound wrists to her. “Release me and you will only have to apologize.” He tried for a smile, but it was more a grimace. “That won’t be too bad, will it?”

She shook her head and reached for the restraints. Slowly she began to unbuckle them. She deliberately let her fingers fumble on them, keeping an eye on her watch the entire time. As the seconds ticked down, she unbuckled the last buckle, freeing the man. 

Medic was still for a moment, staring at her. He couldn’t believe that it had been so easy. He coiled his muscles and lunged for her just as a resounding BOOM echoed through the halls of the base. The lights died, leaving him in darkness. His fingers brushed against the Pyro in the dark, and suddenly, there was the whisper of movement. He reached for her, feeling nothing. Medic jumped to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness caused by the sudden movement and the drugs. He spread his arms in front of him, feeling about for her. “Where are you, kleine Schlampe? I am going to kill you slowly, let you respawn, and then do it all again.” He fumbled in the darkness. Suddenly, pain flared in his arm and he grimaced. He could feel the warm trickle of blood flowing. 

“You missed me, Hure.” His questing fingers found a stool in the darkness and he lifted it. “Would you like to try again?”

“I didn’t miss.” Her voice came from the darkness to his right. “I sliced you, just a little bit.” There was an evil chuckle. “We’re all alone here, Doc, and I’m gonna bleed you like the pig you are.” Her voice was on his left now. “Slowly Doc, that’s how you’re gonna die. Slow, and alone, and in the dark.” 

Medic turned, trying to keep track of her voice, to keep the stool between them. “You are going to be the one to die, and when you respawn, I will make you my toy.” He kept talking, trying to keep the slight edge of nervousness from his voice. If he was truly alone, he would not be able to rely on Heavy to protect him. “I am going to use you until there is nothing left to use, and then I will discard your bones in the forest, to be torn apart by wild animals.”

“Respawn’s down, Doc.” There was a pattering rush of bare feet, and a sharp stabbing pain across his lower back.

Medic gasped, realizing suddenly the danger of his situation. He began to back into a corner, holding the stool in front of him. He stopped when his now bleeding back hit a wall. The girl had not sliced him deeply, he could still move and bend and turn, albeit with some pain. But pain was his friend, he reminded himself. Pain was a tool. A thing to be utilized, to make one stronger. He moved his head slowly, taking stock of his situation. His head was starting to clear, no more wooziness with sudden movements. He closed his eyes and opened them again, realizing that he could faintly see outlines of cabinets and tables in the thin starlight shining through the windows. First, he thought, a weapon, then a light. Then, it would be time to teach this brat a lesson she would not soon forget. 

Medic grunted under his breath and began to slide along the wall. He stopped when his hip bumped against the cabinet to his right. He was intimately familiar with this room, an advantage the Pyro did not have. Pulling open the drawer, he fumbled inside and found what his questing fingers had been looking for. The scalpel gleamed in the dim room, the thin bladed razor sharp and seeming to thirst for blood. Medic grinned, a curl of dark hair flipping across his forehead. The dummes Madchen thought that she stood a chance against him. He chuckled. Very soon, she would learn that war is for men and that her place was on her back. Medic stepped carefully to the next drawer. 

“I cannot see you, Kind.” He glanced around the room, fingers sliding open the drawer beside him. “Ach, though, it does not matter.” He allowed sarcasm to tinge his voice. “You think that you are a match for me? Or any man, for that matter?” His laughter was dark. “You will very soon receive a valuable life lesson. And you will thank me, on your knees, for teaching you how to behave properly.” His eyes tracked across the darkness, noting the shadows where she could be hiding. “You will learn your position and your class, Kind. You will be the entire team’s whore, even your beloved Engineer.” There, to his left, a brief movement. Medic tightened his grasp on the blade. He pulled the penlight from the drawer and slid it back closed. Even in these circumstances, a man had to control his environment. He held the penlight tightly in his left hand, ready to click it on. There was a faint clinking noise to his left, the sound of flesh bumping against metal. Medic gritted his teeth, prepared himself for the pain, and dived headfirst over the table in front of him. 

Medic landed on something soft and squirming, lifting the scalpel and slashing downward. He heard an indrawn hiss of breath and a grunt of pain, then the girl was fighting him, all elbows and knees in the dark space behind the table. He grunted out loud as she connected with his stomach, curling his fingers tighter around the knife and punching her. The girl went still for a moment and, feeling in the darkness, he settled himself between lax thighs. Medic flicked on the penlight. 

Pyro kept her eyes closed against the blinding light Medic was shining into her face. He’d pinned her down, a lucky slash with the scalpel and a fist to the head stunning her momentarily. She took a deep breath and kept her body pliant under his, waiting.

When he readjusted his grip on the scalpel, she moved, arms wrapping around him and fingers digging into the long gash on his back. She ripped outward, nails catching the edges of the wound and turning them jagged. Medic’s body distorted above her as he howled with pain, and she quickly rolled herself from under him and into the friendly darkness under a nearby table. Only then did she realize that she had lost the knife. 

Medic scuttled after her like a long-limbed spider, his arms reaching under the table for her, the light bouncing about crazily with his movements. His fingertips brushed her ankle and she kicked hard, hearing a crunch as her heel connected with his nose. She pushed herself out the other side and ran, pushing through the swinging doors and into the hallway beyond. Racing into the kitchen, she pulled open drawers, looking for a weapon, her fingers finally settling around the hilt of a long-bladed butcher knife. Pyro ran to the pantry door and pulled it open a crack, then dropped to the floor in the far corner of the kitchen, listening carefully. In the distance, she could hear Medic crashing down the hall toward her, his light casting crazed shadows across the hallway as he ran. 

Medic slid into the kitchen and stopped running, his heart pounding in his chest from the exertion. He shone the penlight’s tiny beam around the room, stopping on the slightly open pantry door. “Oh, little one,” His voice sounded muffled and nasally, blood still leaked from his nose. “I see your hiding place.” Medic took a step toward the pantry door, then paused to listen. “You may as well speak to me, Kind. Apologize now. If you are sincere enough, I will not even punish you.” He took another step forward, his hand grasping the doorknob. “Come now, Kind. Surely even you are not stupid enough to think you can hide from me.” He jerked the door open and shined the light inside, frowning when he saw only shelves of neatly stacked canned goods. 

The sound of running footsteps alerted him and he half turned but was too slow to avoid the body barreling toward him. They crashed together, Pyro grunting at the sudden wall of muscle in front of her, Medic tumbling backward into the pantry. Pyro pushed the door shut with her foot, holding it against his pounding fists as he came to his feet and began trying to get out. Stretching out, she managed to get one hand on a kitchen chair, and she dragged it to her, propping it under the doorknob. Getting to her feet, she brushed herself down, checking to make sure the knife was still tucked into her belt. The chair was beginning to inch across the floor, nothing could hold back Medic’s fury for long. She skipped down the pitch-black hallway, humming softly, vengeance on her mind. 

Medic finally managed to push the chair far enough away from the door to free himself. He stepped out into the kitchen, cursing under his breath. There would be no mercy, he thought. The girl had pushed him past the brink. Medic tried to take a deep breath through his nose, only to find it stuffy and plugged with clots. Cursing, he began to search for her. He’d made it halfway through the rec room when he heard a booming crash down the empty corridor outside. It sounded like the doors to his clinic, he thought to himself, heading in that direction. Had she truly fled back there, attempting to hide herself in the one place he felt most at home? Medic began to chuckle, imagining stripping the skin from her body and the muscles from her bones. When respawn is fixed, he promised himself, flaying the little bitch will be my first order of business.

Medic stepped into the clinic, jackbooted feet clicking on the tiles. He allowed the doors to swing closed behind him, the soft swoosh a familiar sound. He took another step in when footsteps sounded behind him and he fell to the floor, screaming. The girl had cut into the muscles and tendons in the back of his knee, deeply this time. He clutched at the wounded limb, trying to breath through the pain as light footsteps flitted away. The penlight was rolling back and forth in a corner of the room, light and shadow blending in arcing bands across the floor. Medic glimpsed the pool of blood that was pouring from his wounded leg and clasped his hands tightly around it. She was not going to get away with this, he thought to himself as he crawled to a cupboard. He reached up, feeling for the handle, and a small hand pressed a roll of bandages into his. 

“Is this what you’re looking for, Doc?” There was a hint of amusement in her voice that was disconcerting.

He turned his head up, surprised, to see her perched on the counter above him. “What the hell are you doing, Hure?” His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention away from her long enough to wrap the bandages around his wounded leg. Pressure dressing, his mind screamed, slow the bleeding, then deal with the little bitch. 

He fastened off the bandage and looked back up. She was gone. Medic cursed. “What the hell are you doing?” His scream echoed off the walls of the clinic. 

“Playing a game, Doc.” Her voice was now on the other side of the room, near the light. “It’s called “Monsters in the Dark.” Her feet thumped on the floor, and suddenly the light was gone. “But you cheated. You tried to play with a light.” She laughed, a tinkling giggle that would sound more at home in a sunlit park, surrounded by friends, instead of in this dark room that smelled of blood and disinfectant. “But maybe you don’t know the rules. So, I’ll tell you.” Her footsteps were coming closer in the darkness. “The rules are that there are no rules. Only one of us will walk out of here, Doc, and right now you aren’t walking anywhere.” 

Medic screamed as a foot came out of the darkness, a roundhouse kick to his head knocking him over. He heard the soft plink of one of his teeth hitting tile. Medic tried to push himself back up, groaning with exertion. Her foot kicked his arms out from under him, sending him crashing into the floor. Medic’s nose hit the cold tile with a sound like a too ripe melon splatting against a wall. He spat as blood filled his mouth again. “Du kleine Fotze.” The words were garbled and burbled through the blood in his throat. “Ich werde dich töten.” 

Medic froze as she straddled him, one foot on either side and wrapped a hand in his hair, pulling his head back. The cold blade of a knife was pressed against his throat. “Apologize, Doc. Apologize for what you did to Scout, and what you did to Engie. Apologize for what you did to Heavy.” The blade bit into his flesh. 

Medic steeled himself against the pain and jerked his head back, making contact in a crushing blow to her face. He rolled to the side, knocking her off balance. She fell heavily atop him and he grabbed for the knife in her hand. His fingers wrapped around her arm, squeezing, digging into the tendons in her wrist, forcing her hand to open. The knife clattered to the floor. Medic grabbed for it, but she was faster, her head flying forward, bloodied forehead meeting his already pulverized nose. Medic screamed as involuntary tears filled his eyes, both hands automatically going to his wounded face. He brought one hand down, grabbing blindly for the blade. 

Instead of pulling back, Pyro nestled her head in closer to his throat, teeth seeking and finding tender flesh. She bit down, earning another scream from Medic. As sharp teeth tore at his carotid artery, his grasping fingers found the blade and he plunged it into her side. He felt the blade slide home as a warm gush of copper smelling liquid bathed the front of his shirt. “Was hast du getan?” the words slid past his teeth as he slipped into a cold darkness. 

Pyro collapsed on top of the corpse, her breath coming in short pants. She could feel the foreignness of the steel deep in her chest. Her entire body ached. She knew that the bruises she felt blooming under her skin were deep and would stay for a very long time. Probably until her corpse decayed, she thought bleakly. She tried to lift her head off Medic’s chest, but it was so heavy. So much easier to just lie there, cheek against his blood-soaked shirt, his taste filling her mouth. “Good night, sweet Prince.” Pyro muttered in his ear as she closed her eyes.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few loose ends are tied up. Pyro gets an offer she can't refuse. Engie, through kindness and loyalty, tames the firefly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's been a very long haul with this story, but so much fun. I have to admit, I've gotten rather attached to these characters. Plus, I have some unanswered questions, lol. As some of you may know, there will be additions to this. I intend to keep my posting schedule, every Thursday, and so hopefully we can all make it through the quarantine of nations with some entertainment at hand. The first post will be a one shot, and then the next question, "whatever happened to that Heavy?", will be answered. 
> 
> Also, for those of you who've read this far, I hope this isn't a spoiler, but I'm gonna introduce a 10th class in this chapter. Hope you all enjoy my 10th and that it seems at least a little believable. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much to Distasty for reading and helping with this story, I couldn't do it without you!

Some time later, she was awakened by soft fingers pressed against her wrist. She snarled deep in her throat, the sound ending in a weak cough. “Lie still, luciole. I am here to help.” The soft French accent was soothing and honestly, she was too tired to fight. Pyro closed her eyes again, allowing gentle hands to run over her body, searching out her injuries. At last the soft voice spoke to her. “I cannot remove the knife, petite luciole, or you will bleed to death. I am going to try to stabilize it, then I will take you out of this charnel house. Do you understand?”

Pyro grunted in understanding, then bit her lip, trying not to scream as padding was wrapped around the wooden knife handle in her side. Strong arms lifted her off Medic, and suddenly she was flying. She gasped in terror, her arms going around the Spy’s neck. He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I will not drop you.” They had not made it to the clinic doors when she passed out again.

BLU Spy carried the Pyro to his car, placing her on the passenger seat as gently as possible. He checked the rise and fall of her chest yet again; it was far too shallow for his liking. Turning the car on and putting it in gear, he began to drive toward his own base. He was thankful that, after Medic had managed to stabilize the RED team, he’d decided to come to their base. He had searched the base, finding Pyro lying atop Medic on the clinic’s gore coated floor. He’d checked for pulses in both, although it was obvious that no one could live after having their throat ripped out. Still, he thought, better safe now than sorry later. 

Now, as he drove through the predawn glow toward his own base, he pondered what he had just seen. It was obvious that something was wrong with RED’s respawn. If it were active, Medic would not have been stiffly entwined around the Pyro, rigor mortis tightening his last embrace into a horrid parody of love. As he pulled the car into the garage, he saw his own Scout standing by the doors. “Scout!” he shouted as the boy began to run to him. “Go to the clinic and tell Medic that I need him and a gurney. I have found their Pyro.”

The boy took off at a dead run in the opposite direction and Spy opened the passenger door of his car. It was not long before Medic was wheeling the gurney to a stop by his car. Reaching in carefully, he removed the girl and laid her down, on her side to keep from driving the knife in any further. Medic’s eyes met his. “Their Medic?” The look on his face was apprehensive.

“Dead.” Spy smiled slightly as the tension eased in Medic’s face. “Do you think that you can save her, Doctor? Their respawn is down.”

Medic shrugged. “I will have to take her to the clinic and examine her. I should be able to though. You seem to have done a very good job at triage.” Spy accepted the compliment with a small nod. “Thank you.” He laid a hand on the stretcher, helping guide it through the corridors to the clinic. 

Pyro drifted in a warm cloud, no pain, no worries, just whiteness. She murmured under her breath and a warm hand squeezed hers gently. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She didn’t know where she was, thought for a moment that she was back at the hospital in Saigon. But that couldn’t be right. There was no mosquito netting. No soft ebb and flow of Vietnamese in the background. There was silence and bare walls, painted stark white. Pyro turned her head to the side.

Engie grinned, biting back a whoop of relief as those pale grey eyes focused on his. “Hey there, little bit. How you feeling?”

“Like a bird in the clouds.” Her voice was slurred, croaking slightly from dehydration. 

Engie released her hand and reached for the glass of ice water sitting on the table beside him. “That’ll be the morphine talking.” He held the straw to her lips, watching as she eagerly sucked down water. When she had finished, he set the glass aside and gently wiped a bead of water from her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “You’ve been asleep forever, it feels like.” He smiled down at her, fingers brushing through her cropped hair. “Medic says you needed it to heal.” 

Her eyes widened and she tried to sit up. “No! I killed him. I felt him die!”

A gentle hand to her chest easily pressed her back onto the bed. “Not our Medic, little bit. BLU Medic. He’s been taking care of all of us, until we can get our respawn working again. You surely did a number on it, darling.” He chuckled, teasing her gently. “Next time, don’t blow it up as much, okay? My family’s been working on it the whole time you’ve been out.” He laughed at the expression of dismay on her face. “Now, little bit, I gotta tease you some.”

She relaxed and leaned back into the softness of the pillows, snuggling her cheek into the hand he still had on her head. “I know…” She drifted back into sleep again. 

When she woke up next, Ms. Pauling was sitting at her bedside. There was no sign of Engie, and she smiled wanly at the other woman. “Hi Ms. Pauling. How are you?”

Ms. Pauling shook her head a bit. “Better than you, from the looks of it.” She smiled warmly. “I wanted to stop by and commend you on a job well done. You have definitely solved a problem at this base with a minimum of lives lost. Although you nearly lost your own, and I would have to dock your pay for that.” The dark-haired woman frowned at her, voice softening. “You worried me; you know. Why didn’t you call in for back up? I would have come.”

Pyro shrugged. “I solved the problem. How are Scout and Heavy?” 

Ms. Pauling chuckled. “Scout seems to have a serious case of hero worship. Heavy could be better. He is currently going through the tail end of withdrawal and seems very remorseful for everything he did.” She looked deeply into Pyro’s eyes. “Do you think he deserves to live?” 

Pyro nodded. “He does. He was caught up in Medic’s shit as much as the rest of them. Not his fault. Besides, aren’t you the one who told me that everybody deserves a second chance.”

Ms. Pauling nodded. “I’m also the one who said that sometimes that second chance comes in their next lifetime and we’re the ones to hurry them along to it.” Ms. Pauling’s face turned serious. “I’ve also come with a job offer. I need someone like you, with multiple talents. Someone willing to go onto bases and solve problems with minimal damage. A fixer, if you like.” 

Pyro look down at her pale fingers, twisting in the bedsheets. her cheeks flashed pink when she looked back up at Miss Pauling. “Could I stay with this team if I accept the job? I don’t want to leave just yet. There’s something about these guys…” Her voice trailed off. 

Ms. Pauling smiled broadly. “I am assuming when you say, ‘these guys,’ you’re thinking specifically of a certain engineer?” One shapely eyebrow raised, and she watched Pyro with an amused look on her face. “A certain engineer who’s been sitting at your bedside since they brought you in?”

Pyro’s blush got deeper, and she dropped her eyes to the bed sheets, refusing to look back up. “Maybe?”

Ms. Pauling reached out and patted her hand. “I’ll have to OK it with the administrator, but I don’t see why not. We don’t have anything going on right now that would require your services. If you choose to stay with this team, I’m certain we can work something out.” Ms. Pauling’s smile broadened. “In fact, it might be a good thing for you to have a home base to work out of.” She smiled even wider. “I’ll see what I can do, ok?” 

Pyro glanced at her, then away again, but there was no hiding the satisfied curve of her lips.

A week later, Pyro and Engie sat on the roof of the base, looking out over the battlefield. Engie’s fingers were twined with hers, his calloused thumb stroking her hand. “I guess we start fighting again tomorrow, little bit. You ready?”

Pyro nodded. “I’m ready. You think it’ll be hard to kill the BLU’s now?” The entire team had spent over a week on the BLU base, and in that time, several friendships had formed. The RED team, so long denied any type of normal socialization, was distrustful and wary, but also seeking kindness even from such an unlikely source. 

Engie shrugged. “I don’t know, little bit. Most of the guys are excited. And the new Heavy is a dream to work with.” He sighed. “I hate to be this way, but I’m glad they shipped the old one somewhere else. Don’t know if I could ever work with him again, after all the shit he did. “He glanced at her, then back to the sunset, his arm settling comfortably around her shoulders. “We’re gonna try out that new strategy you suggested and see how it works.” His thumb continued to move on the side of her hand, and he leaned over, soft lips pressing to her cheek. “You know that our new medic is supposed to show up later tonight?” He tried to hide the trepidation in his voice, but she heard it anyway.

She nodded, leaning against him. “Yeah, I don’t envy him a bit. None of you guys are gonna be cooperative patients.” She shrugged. “Can’t really blame you, but still, don’t give him too much trouble.” She sighed heavily. “He’s just doing his job.”

“Speaking of doing their job,” Engie took a deep breath, “Ms. Pauling told me that you accepted her offer.”

Pyro glanced up at him, startled. “She told you about that?” 

“Yeah, said I have the necessary security clearance. She says that you are what they call a Fixer.” He took a deep breath, worry showing on his face. “She says they send you to problem bases. That you identify the extent of the problems there and fix them. Said that you’d have to travel sometimes, but that you requested this as your home base.” 

Pyro nodded. “All true. Does that bother you? That I’ll have to go sometimes and that you can’t go with me?” 

He shrugged. “As long as you come home, little bit.”

She smiled broadly at him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a place to call home, Mac. I kind of like the sound of that.” 

He nodded. “Thought you might.” He leaned down and kissed her again, lips wandering gently over the soft skin of her neck before pulling back to look into her eyes. “Speaking of, I’ve got a problem, darling.” He brushed her hand over the swelling on his groin. “I need you to identify and fix it.”

Pyro’s giggle rang across the rooftop and was soon silenced.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember guys, for every kudo a baby Pyro gets it's first Zippo! Support baby Pyros everywhere!


End file.
